


Whumptober 2020

by yay_stucky_vibes



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, I Can't Think of Tags But There Are Probably More, M/M, Marvel Universe, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yay_stucky_vibes/pseuds/yay_stucky_vibes
Summary: A bunch of angst, fluff, ships, and minimal sleep smushed together into Whumptober fanfiction.Ships I hope to include: Stucky (days 4, 11, 20, 24, 30), Scogan (5, 9), Winteriron (6), Fratt (7, 26), Hulkeye (8), Cablepool (10), Winterhawk (12), Spideytorch (13 ,14), MattDanny (15), Wintercastle (16), Captain Hawk (17,29), Logurt (18, 31), Lovebirds (19), Symbrock (21), Ricstar (22), Winterdevil (23), Hawkdevil (25), Spideypool (27), and Cycrawler (28).Update: I ended up stopping after day 23, because it had taken me two months to type 4-22.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Clint Barton, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Frank Castle, James "Bucky" Barnes/Matt Murdock, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Julio Richter/Shatterstar, Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers, Logan/Kurt Wagner, Matt Murdock/Danny Rand, Nathan Summers/Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959331
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Whumptober Day 4: Running Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Caveat: I have never done this before. I've read about two examples of Whumptober and that's it. So if you're looking for experienced Whumptober writing, go somewhere else. I do write a lot of fanfiction, but I usually throw it away and never post it. Anyway, have fun if you do decide to read it.
> 
> Just assume when something doesn't fit with the MCU/comics, it's part of an AU. I don't have time to perfectly blend the movies and comics, so we'll all have to make do. I will try to post as often as I can, but I may forget some.
> 
> I started on Day 4, due to forgetting Whumptober existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: caged, buried alive, collapsed building (I only managed to get one)
> 
> Ship: Stucky
> 
> If you like this, tell a friend. If you don't like this, tell an enemy.
> 
> (Also, one last thing. I cannot save my work on my computer so I will have to post it before it may be done. Bear with me and check back if you want to finish it.)

  
Ordinarily, the Avengers didn't serve as a rescue crew. But there had been another Chitauri attack, and many of the buildings where the first responders were had been crushed. It had been a surprise attack, with no warning until Alpha Flight picked them up on their radar. The Avengers had been mobilized to help combat it, but the city had suffered severe collateral damage in the ensuing fight. Of course, it was just Earth-616's New York on a Tuesday, but that didn't mean the effects weren't bad enough. They had finally halted the surprise attack and then turned to helping the city, trying to be everywhere at once. And they were the Avengers, they were expected to be everywhere at once. Peter Parker, Carol, Bruce, Thor, Wanda, and Scott were all in charge of debris removal, while Tony, Stephen, Pietro, Rhodey, and Vision were sent to help people out of burning buildings and crumpled cars. Sam wheeled overhead, thermal goggles scanning for any heat signatures. Clint and Nat helped get people to the makeshift shelters around the city, and even T'Challa stuck around, prowling the wreckage, finding any lost people or animals. There were only two missing: Steve and Bucky. If you had asked any Avenger where they were, all you would get would be a shrug. Cap was doing his own thing. Of course. To be fair, at that moment, Steve didn't even really know where he was and he didn't care. He was somewhere and everywhere (deep, I know), trying to help everyone, Bucky chasing after him, trying to get him to slow down. But Steve is as unstoppable as the Juggernaut when he's feeling responsible for something. The unfortunate thing is he's always feeling responsible for something.

The hours passed and the Avengers' strength started to flag and then drop out. One by one, they retreated, Bruce, Wanda, Peter P., Carol, until every Avengers except for the last two were heading home, be it the Avengers compound, their own apartment, or a completely different nation. Once most of the Avengers had gotten to the compound, they started to notice that Cap was still gone.

"Has anyone seen Steve?," Tony asked, walking into the living area, "I wanted to ask him a few questions."

Everyone shook their heads, looking around at each other and frowning. Bruce's brow furrowed and he said "Come to think of it, when was the last time anyone saw him? My memories from the Hulk are always a little fuzzy."

There was a pause, then Peter offered, "I know he was at the battle." The assembled Avengers nodded emphatically. Who could forget the 220-pound ball of red, white, and blue fury?

Sam added, "I saw him before I took off to look around the city. He had the I-have-to-save-everyone look in his eye."

"Barnes was right behind him." Natasha piped up from the couch.

Tony frowned and said, "We should probably get in touch with him, just see how it's going."

"Sure, but how?," Clint asked, raising his hand like he was in school, " he's out there and we're in here. I don't know about you guys, but as much as I love those two like a brother, I'm not going to go combing the city for two adult super-soldiers who might not even be lost."

There was another short pause, then Scott sat up abruptly and said "Wait - wouldn't he still have his comms on if he was out there?"

All the Avengers stared at Scott for a minute, then Tony voiced what they were all thinking: "Did - did Scott just say something smart?"

"Hilarrrrrious, Tony," Scott grumbled, folding his arms, "you know, I have a master's degree in electrical engineering. I'm not exactly an idiot." Pietro smirked from where he was sitting and multiple people in the room turned away, trying not to laugh.

"It might actually work." Bruce interjected before Tony could respond, getting up to find a comm link.

"We need to put a microchip in those two." Clint grumbled, twirling an arrow in his fingers.

Tony paused and looked back, then said "Remind me on Thursday to do that."

Clint raised his eyebrows and replied "I was joking."

Tony left the room, saying as he walked out: "I'm not."

Meanwhile, Steve was still trying to find someone to help. Bucky ran at his side, irritated and tired, but still willing to follow Steve to hell and back. They paused on the corner of a deserted intersection of the most damaged part of the city so Steve could catch his bearings. Bucky stood still, more tired than he would ever admit.

"Come on, Steve, it's over." he tried to persuade Cap, but Steve was still in full hyper-responsibility mode.

"It's not over until everyone's safe." he replied, distracted.

"Everyone is safe," Bucky told him, "we've been running in circles for almost an hour now."

"There are still more people."

"There are always more people. You can't save them all, St-"

"Shush."

"Excuse me?"

Steve held a finger to his lips and Bucky fell silent. There was a beat of silence, then he heard it: the quiet crying of a young child. "Oh, great." Bucky grumbled, but followed Steve through the streets, moving towards the source of the sound. The noise led them to a half-wrecked apartment, dangerously tilting. If you listened closely, you could hear it creaking. 

"Steve, be careful-" Bucky started to say, but Steve was already stepping into the house. Bucky sighed and followed carefully behind him, painfully aware that one misstep could bring the house crashing down around their ears. Steve moved lightly into what must have been a living room. The floor was pockmarked with holes, but there was one larger one in the center of the room and that was where the crying was coming from. Bucky and Steve peered into it, seeing it went all the way to the basement. A five- or six-year-old boy sat on the floor in the darkness, and as Bucky's eyes adjusted he saw that the kid was no ordinary human. Scales reflected in what little light there was, and when he turned to look at them, a large frill around his neck rose in surprise. A mutant.

The boy looked up at them and sniffled. "A-are you here to save me?" he asked.

"Yeah, son, we are." Steve replied, smiling calmly, though Bucky could see how tense he was.

The boy wiped his reptilian eyes and whimpered "They took Mom, but they - they called me a... mutie... and left me here, and now I'm a-all alone."

"Just hold on one more minute. We're going to help you." Bucky called down to the frightened kid.

Steve started carefully dragging a loose board to the edge of the pit and lowered it down. He looked over the edge and instructed, "All right, now I need you to listen closely, okay?"

The boy nodded fearfully, eyes fixed on Steve's face. Steve smiled and said "Good. All you have to do to get out is climb up this plank, and then you can go see your family again."

The child looked at the board and said quietly, "B-but..."

"I know it's scary, but it'll be over so fast won't even realize you did it." Steve said encouragingly.

The boy paused, then took a deep breath and placed on hand on the plank, claws digging into the wood. He inched up until he was only about a foot away.

"There you go, you're almost there." Bucky told him soothingly as Steve reached out his arms to help the kid onto the slightly more stable floor. 

"What's your name?" Steve asked, carefully standing up, balancing the boy with one arm. Bucky followed him out, picking his way through the minefield of holes and debris.

"M-mike. Michael." the kid sniffed, the fear in his eyes starting to dim.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but in that moment his comms crackled on. "Steve? Steve, where are you?" Tony's voice asked. Steve, startled, misstepped. He stumbled straight into a wall, and Tony repeated "Cap?", but now no one could hear him over the creaking of the building. A crack raced across the ceiling, and then a large chunk of plaster fell right in front of the doorway, blocking their exit.

"Damn." Bucky cursed, raising his metal arm to shield himself from the falling roof. A louder creak echoed through the building and the walls starting tilting.

"Take the kid." Steve said tersely, handing Mike to Bucky.

"Steve, what are you-" Bucky asked, but Steve turned on his comm link and said quickly "Tony - I'm turning on my tracker. I need you to follow it if I don't check back within five minutes."

He canvassed the rooms, eyes sweeping everywhere, before turning to Bucky and saying "Buck, the window." Bucky looked dubiously at the small rectangle, but a series of cracks radiated out from the big one on the ceiling, and Bucky realized he didn't have time to look for other options.

"I'm not leaving you here." Bucky called over the rumble of shifting brickwork.

"I'll be right behind you," Steve promised, "but the kid needs to get out first, and we're running out of time."

Bucky looked at the frightened reptile-boy and sighed, not that anyone could hear it. He charged for the window, thanking the world that they were only on the first floor. More of the ceiling and walls caved in as he ran, Steve's heavy footsteps right behind him.

The kid curled in close to Bucky, eyes wide, and Bucky found himself whispering, "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." Whether it was for himself or the kid, he didn't know. He leapt and crashed through the glass, shielding the child as he landed safely on the pavement outside. The apartments groaned louder and Bucky turned back to see Steve make a desperate dive for the window, and he was going to be safe - they would all be safe - it's going to be okay. But he never made it through. His shield, stored on his back, jammed against the edges of the window. Steve's eyes widened as he realized what had happened, and he backed away, preparing to take the shield off. 

"Steve!" Bucky called, setting down the kid and sprinting towards the structure, but just then, there was an incredibly loud crack as some key component broke and two tons of brick came crashing down on Steve's head.

"No." Bucky whispered, ears ringing. Everything had gone silent. He caught a red-and-gold flash out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Tony touching down next to the wreckage. 

"Barnes? Where's-" Tony started to ask, then turned towards the collapsed apartment, iron faceplate giving away nothing, but Bucky heard a sharp intake of breath.

The kid looked at them from the curb and asked, "He's going to be okay...right?"

Bucky moved to the last spot he had seen Steve, so numb he couldn't feel his footsteps. Tony moved silently to his side and together, they started picking up rocks and bricks, trying to find exactly what they didn't want to. Bucky's bionic arm scraped against the stone over and over until he found a snatch of red and white. Part of the stripes on Steve's chest. He paused, not sure he wanted to continue, but then Tony heaved over one last rock and there Steve was. He had managed to avoid getting completely crushed, but he lay still, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest and his stomach heaved. He closed his eyes until he could swallow again, then looked over at Iron Man, who was just staring at Steve's body. Bucky slowly moved his gaze over, still silent. 

Tony's helmet retracted and he looked over at Bucky, face pale. "Bucky...I'm so sorry...," he whispered. Bucky didn't respond, just stood still, hoping something magical could happen and Steve would wake up. His eyes swept over Steve, but then focused on one detail he had missed.

"Dog tags." he said quietly

"What?" Tony asked, confused.

Bucky knelt down, looking closer, then continued, "He's not wearing my dog tags."

"I don't understand."

"We wore each other's dog tags. Just a silly superstition, but it's kept us alive this far. I'm wearing his - but he's not wearing mine." He rifled through Steve's belt pouches and found the necklace. The cord had snapped, which was probably why he hadn't had it around his neck, but it still had both dog tags. BARNES, JAMES B.

"He died a quick death because he still had them on him." Bucky mumbled.

Tony walked over, looking at the small pieces of metal. "Bucky...isn't that just a fairy tale?"

Bucky looked up at him and grinned without humor. "You stand in front of a super-soldier and a previously brainwashed assassin with a fully functioning metal arm, in a flying tin can. I think fairy tales are our reality right now." Tony fell silent for once, and Bucky stood up abruptly, pocketing the necklace.

"I'm taking the kid to find his family." he announced, unable to look at not-Steve any longer. Mike sat on the curb, wide-eyed and shivering. 

"Come on, let's go find your mom." Bucky told him, easily picking him up.

Bucky managed to find the child's family in the closest tent to the apartment. The mother hugged the boy close and told Bucky "Thank you so much for saving him." 

Bucky said numbly, "I didn't. Steve did."

"Well, will you thank him for me?" she asked.

Bucky looked at her and replied, "He's dead.", then walked away, not waiting or wanting to see her reaction.

He walked all the way back to the Avengers compound, dog tags heavy in his pocket and around his neck. When he got back, Bucky could tell Tony had already broken the news by the stunned silence that permeated the rooms. Bucky walked past them, down the hall, into their- his room. He set the two sets of dog tags on the bed, sitting next to them. If they had died in the war, the dog tags would have been separated, one marking their body, one letting everyone know they had died. If they had died in the war, Steve would have died James B. Barnes and Bucky would have been Steven G. Rogers. It was now that Bucky noticed one of the metal pieces was missing. It must have slipped off the broken chain, but it wasn't in his pocket. Made sense, though. One half of James B. Barnes. Bucky closed his eyes and wished it was all a dream.

Bucky's eyes shot open as he heard Steve's voice saying "Bucky? Bucky!" He turned his head, squinting, and saw Steve, sitting up, very much alive, with that worried face that Bucky thought he would never see again. He sat up and rubbed his face, trying to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"What- what the hell?" he mumbled, looking over at Steve.

"You were talking in your sleep." Steve replied, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"You're alive," Bucky breathed, almost daring to let himself believe it, "you're actually alive."

"Yeah, I'm alive..." Steve said, a little nonplussed.

Bucky glanced around their room, looking for the one thing that could persuade him it wasn't all a dream, then asked "Do you know where my dog tags are?"

Steve picked them up from his bedside table, very confused, then handed them to Bucky. Bucky turned them over in his hand, making sure both tags were there, then he leaned forward and put them over Steve's head until they came to rest on his shoulders. Bucky moved his palm over them, feeling Steve's heart beating through the metal. 

"...Is everything okay?" Steve asked, eyes searching Bucky's face. 

Bucky smiled up at him and said "It is now."


	2. Whumptober Day 4: Running Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as: How Giant-Size X-Men would have gone if I was the one writing it.
> 
> For some reason, the title keeps reverting to the previous one, so just know that this is actually called "Where Do You Think You're Going?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: on the run, failed escape, rescue
> 
> Ship: Scogan
> 
> Basically, this takes place in the comic from 1975 (Giant-Size X-Men) when the original X-Men were kidnapped by Krakoa, and Professor X assembled Banshee, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Storm, Sunfire, Thunderbird, and Wolverine. Everything is the same until the part where, in the canon counterpart, Scott walks in through the door. Instead, in here, we learn that the X-Men had disappeared mysteriously and Xavier has no idea where they went. I kept Sunfire out because it was already hard to keep track of the others, and he spent most of the time yelling at the others anyway.

The new X-Men were far from perfect, but they would have to do. And the number was a few more than before. Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Thunderbird, Storm, Banshee, Sunfire, Colossus, and, of course, Professor X himself. Just now, he was talking to them about power, and responsibility, and whatever else. Logan wasn't really listening, but he was sure he could recite every word straight from the "superhero mentor" handbook. If he had known how much talking and how little fighting there was going to be, he probably wouldn't have joined, though it was still better than scampering around for the Canadian government. His mind wandered, bored, but then Professor X paused for several beats and Logan realized something was wrong. Xavier's brow was furrowed and he held two fingers to his head, concentrating. 

"What is wrong?" Kurt asked, moving forward, but Professor X stopped him, eyes widening.

"Scott..." he murmured.

""Who is Scott?" Ororo asked, head tilted.

Xavier and Sean shared a look and Sean replied "You may know him better as Cyclops."

The X-Men looked around at each other, raising their eyebrows. From what they had gathered, the original X-Men - Angel, Beast, Cyclops, Iceman, and Marvel Girl - had all disappeared, possibly died, on a mission that Xavier wouldn't tell them about. Logan had seen the pictures upstairs when Charles had given them a tour. Bobby and Hank playing basketball. Warren with a party hat on, grinning like an idiot. Jean and Scott, arms around each other's shoulders. Logan had stared at that picture for a long minute before he realized that Xavier was watching him, so he sneered at it and moved on, not wanting to show any weakness around this new person. If only Scott hadn't died...

_I'm not dead,_ Scott told himself, _but I will be if I don't start moving soon._ His head spun and his legs shook, but he managed to stumble to his feet, trying to make his eyes focus. As the scenery came into view, Scott saw he was in some sort of jungle. Vines hung from trees and vivid flowers bloomed among the underbrush. But something seemed...off among the beautiful greenery. Scott's brain sluggishly connected the dots until he realized - no noises. No crickets. No birds. Just the rustle of wind in the trees and the sound of his own lurching footsteps.

Scott shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and muttered "Come on, Scott, think." Then a voice rang in his head, clear as day, and Scott stumbled back, slamming up against a tree.

"Who's there?" he asked, sinking to the mossy ground.

 _Scott!_ the voice said again, and Scott's eyes shot open as he remember the speaker.

 _P-professor?_ he asked hesitantly, wondering if this was a side effect of the drug.

_Scott, where are you?_

Scott's mind cleared slowly and he clambered to his feet, looking around. _I think it's a rainforest_.

He searched the ground, then found his own uneven footsteps, sunk deep into the damp soil. _I can track my footsteps back to where I came from._

 _Okay_ , the professor replied, _but be careful._

Scott followed the meandering path all the way to a clearing that was somehow dark, where they disappeared. He cast around, looking for a hole or something where he could have come from, but then he glanced up and his heart skipped a beat. There were his friends and surrogate family, suspended by vines. The vegetation crawled over their arms and legs even as Scott watched, covering every inch and binding them tight. The vines were woven across the top of the clearing, creating the darkness. There was a burnt section, and Scott realized the plants must have tried to take off his visor, which must have been how he'd gotten free.

 _I found the others, Professor. They're being..._ eaten _by these plants. It's like- it's like this place is_ alive _or something._

There was a pause, then a stunned Xavier said, _My God. Krakoa._

 _Krakoa? What's a krakoa?_ Scott asked. He looked up at his friends and then something hit him - where were his optic blasts? He had been walking around for who knows how long, without destroying everything in a six foot radius. What was happening?

 _Scott, get out of there! As fast as you can!_ Professor X called urgently.

Scott turned, hearing a rustle behind him, but he was too slow. A vine swooped in and grabbed him, wrapping itself tight around his waist. Almost immediately, his vision blurred again and Xavier's voice faded. As everything turned dark, Scott tried to send out one last mental message. 

_Trapped._

Back at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Xavier looked up at the new team, face pale.

"I just lost connection again," he said, "but if we move fast, I know where they are."

Shiro held up a hand, eyes narrowing. "Hang on," he replied, "I didn't mean to sign on permanently. I just wanted a taste of what you were offering, and I must say, I'm not up for the program."

"But they need our help!" Ororo exclaimed, surprised that someone would refuse to help another human in need.

"Well, too bad. I'm sure this team can figure it out for themselves." Shiro said, shrugging.

Xavier sighed and replied, "Thank you for joining us anyway, Shiro. Have a safe trip home." Shiro nodded and left, not looking back.

The other X-Men sat for a moment in silence, then Logan lit a cigar and muttered, "That's mutant camaraderie for ya. I'm still in, Prof." The others quickly agreed, and they set out to prepare for their first mission.

Ten minutes later, the new recruits were on board the Blackbird, flying high over the clouds. Logan looked away from the window, more worried than he would ever let on.

 _Normally, I would not send you out on such a dangerous mission in the first_ month _, let alone hours of your arrival at my school. But since this particular issue is so..._ time-sensitive... _I dare not risk delaying the trip._ Professor X told them telepathically, linking all of their minds from where he sat back at the X-Mansion.

 _Do ya always talk like a corny film?_ Logan asked, rolling his eyes.

Xavier ignored him and continued, _Sean's in charge, because of his seniority with the X-Men._

 _What are we fighting?_ James questioned from his seat in the second row.

Images of a lush tropical jungle entered their heads and Xavier replied, _Its name is Krakoa. I had thought it was just a myth, but from what I gathered from Scott's memories, it appears to be very much real. It is an island which is a mutant itself, able to consume the ability of other mutants to fuel its own life force. If we are too late, the others could lose their gifts or even their lives. If any of you get captured, the same could happen to you._

The X-Men paused, grimacing, as they imagined losing the powers they suddenly needed to survive. There was another silence, each steeling themselves for the upcoming fight, before Xavier told them, _You're coming up on Krakoa now._ _Good luck, my X-Men._

Logan put out his ever-present cigar as the island came into view, an innocent mass of green. He pulled his hood over his head, internally grumbling about how stupid he looked. The jet lowered to the ground and the new X-Men quietly disembarked on high alert. Wolverine sniffed the air, but could smell nothing besides his friends and the vegetation. 

"Have you picked up anything?" Piotr whispered in the suffocating silence.

Logan glared at him and replied "Whaddo I look like, a bloodhound?"

 _If you head to the center of the island, you will find Krakoa's hostages._ Professor X instructed, and the team started moving, Banshee in front, Wolverine and Thunderbird close behind to help clear the underbrush that increasingly blocked their path. It could've just been the stress, but Wolverine could swear that every time he hacked apart a bush, the trees loomed a little closer.

"'S like the damn trees from Wizard of Oz...", he muttered, looking around with suspicion.

"We must nearly be there." Sean replied.

Kurt, bringing up the rear, called forward, "We had better be! The trees are closing behind us!"

Sure enough, they all looked back to see that the path they had blazed had disappeared. 

"It... it is almost like the island is _luring_ us..." Storm murmured, vocalizing all of their thoughts.

They all looked around quickly, seeing monsters in the shadows, then Piotr said quietly, "Well, now we must go forward..."

Sean, Logan, and James turned back to clearing a new path, focusing on the work. After more minutes of silent, sweaty work, they came to the edge of a clearing.

 _Be_ _careful..._ Xavier's voice said in their minds.

"Look." James whispered, pointing to the five motionless figures suspended to the trees. Vines wrapped almost completely around four of the figures. Only one body was half-covered. Logan caught the flash of dark brown hair and realized this must be Scott.

"We have to rescue them." he growled, blood starting to boil with berserker rage.

"Now, hold on there, laddie-," Sean started to say, but Logan flung himself into the clearing, popping his claws as he went.

"Dammit." Sean cursed under his breath, then motioned for the remaining X-Men to follow him after Logan. Almost immediately, creepers snaked out of the trees and headed straight for them.

 _They may be drugged!,_ Xavier interjected as the vines came closer.

Banshee destroyed a few with a sonic scream while Colossus turned into organic steel, the poison not affecting him. Thunderbird crushed many under his feet while Storm called down bolts of lightning and Nightcrawler swung his saber in a wide circle, clearing the area. But none could beat Logan, who slashed away at any and all vegetation. He was the first to reach the prisoners and he quickly freed Warren and Jean. Taken away from the drug, they regained consciousness within minutes while Logan covered for them, but could not access their mutant powers. Banshee freed Hank and Kurt made it to Bobby, each helping them down while the others fended off further attacks. Finally, only Scott was left, and Wolverine cut his way through the brambles, finally reaching Scott and slashing him free from the reach of the vines. But Scott didn't - or couldn't - recover as quickly as the others. 

_Krakoa must have increased the dosage of the drug after Scott escaped._ , Professor X told them. _He will recover naturally, but you must get to the Blackbird before Krakoa overwhelms you._

The X-Men all heard Xavier's call, but as they turned around, they realized they had no idea which direction they came from.

"Storm! Fly into the air and point us in the right direction!" Sean called, protecting a still-recovering Bobby.

Storm levitated up and scanned the surrounding area. "That way!" she called, pointing.

Colossus and Thunderbird led the attack back, clearing bushes and creepers as they went. Logan threw Scott over his shoulder - undignified, sure, but it worked and Logan needed his claws free - and joined the other two, clawing at the trail. Slowly but surely, they cut their way through the trees, escaping the island. About halfway through, Scott started to stir.

"Jean?" he mumbled.

"Can't tell whether to be flattered or offended, Slim." Logan replied, face turning slightly red as he realized what he had just called Scott. Slim? Where the hell had that come from?

"What's happening?" Scott asked blearily.

"Just savin' your sorry hides, Sleeping Beauty." Logan told him, then internally cursed. He needed to stop opening his mouth.

Scott relaxed and Logan realized he had passed out again. Which was probably for the best. Now neither of them had to listen to Logan. They finally made it back to the jet a few minutes later and Hank and Kurt hurriedly launched it, all of them wanting to get far, far away. Once they had gotten a little bit away, Logan reluctantly set Scott down.

"Will he be okay?" Jean asked anxiously. 

Just then, Scott's eyes fluttered open. "Jean." he said, smiling exhaustedly.

"Yeah," Logan muttered, turning away, "he'll be fine." If you listened close enough, you could almost detect a hint of bitterness.


	3. Whumptober Day 6: Please...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: "get it out", no more, "stop, please..."
> 
> Ship: Winteriron
> 
> The snakes are back! If you missed the lizard boy from day 4, well, you've got Black Mamba today. For some reason, a lot of my villains are snakes, partly because snakes are awesome (Yay Slytherin-except-for-Voldemort!) but also I thought there were a lot of snake names that weren't taken.
> 
> Yeah, this one wasn't great. The ending was a little hard to make. Also: I discovered that my villain - Black Mamba - already exists while I was googling whether Cable and Deadpool have ever had a canon relationship (teasers for Day 10!). My villain is not that Black Mamba, and I should have known such a cool name was already taken. Oh well.

Tony's head was ringing and it was annoying him. Which seems a little obvious, sure, but it was Tony's first thought when he woke up. What was he doing? Where was he? He cracked open one eye, wincing form the light, and saw he was on the couch in his apartment. There was a sour taste in his mouth and his head spun, but otherwise he seemed to be intact. Except for the fact that he couldn't remember what had happened. Hangover? Battle injury? Then it hit him - where was Bucky? At the thought of Bucky, the memories started to return - a date, that's right, it was date night - a nice dinner - they were walking home, just for fun, looking forward to the night - then a shadow from a side alley - at first, they had thought it was just a mugging - Bucky had thrown a lazy punch with his metal arm, just enough to stun an adult man - but something had grabbed his arm and pulled him into the alley before he could react - then Tony - something hit him on the head and the next thing he knew, he was here. His mind clicked the last pieces into place and Tony sat up, rubbing his eyes. If someone had kidnapped Bucky, they must have been stalking Tony and Bucky, because the decision to walk home had been spontaneous. He looked around the living room and his eyes rested on a small thing on the coffee table that hadn't been there before. It was a small laptop with a note on top - "Midnight. Don't be late." Tony looked up at the clock. 11:57 P.M. (How convenient. Almost like this was a fanfiction or something.) Tony opened the computer, prepared for anything. He saw a very nice background and one file - some kind of virtual meet. The meeting opened up and Tony turned a shade paler as the picture entered full screen. Bucky was unconscious, tied to a chair and guarded by two men in skin-tight scales. Of course. Have to stick with the theme.

"Hello, Tony Sssstark." a voice hissed ominously from off camera.

"Y-you know, I'd be more scared if you knew my full name. _Everyone_ knows Tony Stark." Tony quipped, trying to summon some of his famed "comedy".

There was a beat, then voice said again, "Hello, Tony _Edward_ Sssstark."

"Oh, much scarier. Are you reading this off a piece of paper?" Tony snarked, rolling his eyes and attempting to look like he knew what he was doing.

"Sssshut up." snarled the mysterious narrator, coming into view of the camera. The mystery talker was a moderately tall, well-built man with a black, scaled suit and snake-like eyes. His tongue flicked out and Tony could see it was forked. 

"Great, another guy with a snake fetish." he mock-sighed, shaking his head.

The snake-man's eyes blazed and he hissed, "It'sss not a ssssnake fetisssh. Do you know who I am?"

Tony huffed and sat back, raising his eyebrows. "Garden Snake? Slow Worm?"

"No, you imbeccccile. It'sss _Black Mamba_."

"Riiiiight."

"The mossst dangerousss ssssnake on earth!"

"Actually, that would be the inland taipan, but it just doesn't have the same ring, does it?"

Black Mamba blinked, visibly thrown off, but then his gaze hardened and he growled, "That'ssss irrelevant. The point issss - you're going to come work for ussss."

Tony snort-laughed, then asked "And what gave you that idea?"

The other man smiled, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light. "Well, asssss you can sssee, we took your _precioussss_ lifemate hossstage."

"Um, h-hello, we don't call them lifemates on this planet." Tony told him, but his heart started beating a little faster.

Black Mamba glared at him and said "Do I care? No. Anyway, you _will_ come here and you _will_ help usss or he sssssufferssss for your misssstakesss."

"Sorry, Black Mango, I can't do that."

"It'ssss _Black! Mamba!_ " 

"Yeah, yeah." Tony said, but he realized in that moment that he'd pushed this villain too far. Black Mamba hissed at him and held out his hand as one of his guards handed him a syringe.

"Sssssoundsss like you need a lesssson, Ssssss _tank_." 

"Oh, m-mature, Black Mamba."

Black Mamba just gave him a glare and continued, "In thissss ssssyringe, I have one of the deadliesssst sssnake poisssson cocktailssss known to man." Tony felt the remaining blood drain out of his face as Black Mamba picked up Bucky's flesh arm, holding the needle over a vein.

He smiled a horrible smile and told Tony, "Five minutessss issss all it will take for him to go into ssssshock and die. Only I have the antidote, and it cannot be mixed with other antidotessss, or it will inssssstantly kill him. My termssss of ssserviccce are that I will releassse him, with the antidote, if you agree to come develop ssssome of my weaponsss for one hour every day for one month. Make your choice." And with that, he pushed the needle into Bucky's arm and pushed the plunger down, emptying the venom into Bucky's bloodstream. Tony watched anxiously as Bucky's eyelids fluttered. 

"The clock ssssstartsss now." Black Mamba growled, setting the syringe aside and looking straight at Tony through the screen. Behind him, Bucky's head snapped back and he started to make choking noises that were somehow worse than if he had screamed. Tony bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, morals battling with his heart.

"Ssssso what will it be, Missster Sssstark? The life of your boyfriend or one month of ssssecret work?"

Bucky thrashed against the restraints and he gurgled "Get - get it out, get it out-" 

"Well...?," Black Mamba asked, tongue lashing, "three minutesssss, _Tony._ "

Tony's tongue felt like lead in his mouth, but he took one look at Bucky and choked out, "Stop - stop it please, I'll work for you. I promise."

Those snake eyes glittered and another liquid was inserted into Bucky's arm. Slowly but surely, the spasms died down until he lay still again.

Tony reached to hang up, but Black Mamba interrupted him, adding, "Oh, and Tony? Don't even _think_ about betraying ussss. I not only gave Bucky the antidote, I gave him hundredssss of nanitesss, each carrying the poisssson. Crosss me and I could kill him with the pusssh of a button. Don't fight usss. Don't sssspill our sssecretsss. I'll know, and I'll make you ssssorry. Underssstood?"

Tony gritted his teeth, but nodded, unwilling to risk Bucky's life again.

"Good, Missster Sssstark. I look forward to doing bussssinesss with you. Don't try to traccce thisss call.You will recccieve your firsst inssstructionsss tomorrow." Black Mamba gave Tony one last sadistic smile, then the line went dead and Tony was left to wonder what he had just gotten himself into.

About ten minutes, true to his word, Black Mamba dropped Bucky off. Not personally, of course, but Bucky was at the door, mildly dazed, in ten minutes. He shook his head, trying to clear it, as he stumbled in.

"Did he hurt you?" Tony asked, scanning Bucky for any injuries.

"You mean besides injecting me with death-serum and knocking me out? I'm fine." Bucky tried to joke, but it fell a little flat in the silence. There was an awkward pause, then Bucky swept Tony into a hug. Tony squirmed, but the ex-assassin wasn't letting him go. 

When Bucky finally set Tony down, his face was serious again. "Tony, we have to find a way around this." he said, eyes searching Tony's face. Tony laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

"What?" Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't know if you were conscious enough, but he's covered every contingency. I'm not risking your life, as much as you can irritate me sometimes. He could kill you before I could say 'Iron Man' and I don't have the right antidote." Tony replied.

"So what are you going to do? Go work for that maniac?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"I never took you for a traitor, Stark."

"I'm sorry, I guess I just get cowardly when people I love have their lives on the line."

"But it's against _every_ Avengers moral ever. With you on his side, he could destroy cities, kill thousands."

"First of all, I'm not _on his side_. Second of all, I'm going to take that as a compliment." They paused a moment, glaring at each other, then Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, Barnes, it is what it is. I'll find a way out of it." he said tiredly, heading for the bedroom.

"Just - don't do anything too dumb." Bucky called after him. Tony made a vague gesture and hoped Bucky would think he was assenting.

Tony woke up the next day praying it had all been a nightmare. He had lain awake until 5 in the morning, trying to come up with a plan, until he had finally passed out. He woke up two hours later, still stressed and exhausted and having no idea what to do. Still - maybe it had all been some absurd bad dream. Then he saw Bucky, sprawled on the bed, a dark red dot on his arm where the needles had been. Fantastic. So now his new boss was a psychopath who liked to play dress up.

"I need coffee." Tony muttered to no one in particular, getting up and quietly padding into the kitchen. He slumped against the counter, yawning, as the coffee brewed. Did Black Mamba have any weaknesses? Taunts about his name? But making him angry would not turn out in Tony's - or Bucky's - favor. Some way to sabotage whatever he would be assembling? No, Black Mamba would know. This wasn't building a bomb in a cave for terrorists who didn't actually know the mechanics of what he was doing. No, he couldn't afford to slip up, not even the slightest. Tony poured a cup of coffee and sipped at it distractedly, trying to think of some way - any way - that he could avoid the upcoming meeting. The ideas got crazier and crazier. Play sick. Fake amnesia. Burn down wherever he was going to be sent. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get back on track. It was then that Tony noticed a black slip of paper on the fridge that he certainly hadn't put there. He shuffled over and read the bright white writing. "10 P.M.", then an address. 

"Exciting. My first day of work." Tony grumbled, turning around to throw away the paper. He jumped as he realized Bucky was sitting at the table, drinking coffee.

"Jesus." Tony cursed, clutching his chest.

Bucky smirked slightly over the rim of his cup, then nodded to the paper in Tony's hand and asked "So, where's it going to be?"

"I'm sure as hell not telling _you_." Tony replied, ripping the paper into tiny pieces and tossing them into the recycling.

Bucky gave him an injured look and said "Come on, Stark, you know you can trust me."

"Yes," Tony conceded, "but I also know you would gatecrash the bad guy's little party and we would most likely _both_ end up dead."

Bucky squinted at him stubbornly, then sighed and looked down at his coffee cup. "Fine." he grumbled. "But be careful."

10 P.M. on the dot. The Starks are never late. Tony stared up at the building, giving it his best evil eye. Of course. A warehouse on the edge of the city. Where else? He took a deep breath and opened the door, entering a small, empty room. There was only a table, a box of materials, and what looked like blueprints. No people. No other equipment. Or so Tony thought, but as he reached the table, some kind of pre-recorded message clicked on.

Black Mamba's voice hissed out of the shadows "Welcome, Tony, sssso glad you decccided to join ussss tonight. After all, we wouldn't want any _harm_ to come to anybody..."

"Wow. Totally cryptic and very illustrative." Tony grumbled. He sat down, drawing in a breath and preparing himself. Tony unrolled one of the blueprints and squinted at the design. Some kind of... serpent-gun. Great. No bad guy ever wanted, say, a nice gun that could shoot rainbows. Which would be far easier. just water and the right light angle... but no. It was always about the theme. This one had to spit venom and have a scale-like titanium alloy coating. Tony ran a hand through his hair, looking at the box of supplies and doubting what he was about to do. _I mean, aiding a criminal is severe for even a normal citizen - though there aren't a lot of those left - but for a world-famous billionaire, engineer, and superhero?_ he thought to himself. Then he remembered Bucky. Stupid villains and their stupid contingency plans. Well... time to work.

And so it started. Every night, 10 P.M., a new location. Every night, a new recording. Every night, manufacturing weapons for the "bad guy". Until... it was just over. Tony had almost forgotten about the end of the arrangement, so it came as a shock when there was no new note on the fridge. Still, he half-expected Bucky to drop dead at any moment. Be careful, Sssstark.

The days, then weeks, then a month passed, and everything seemed to go back to normal. Bucky wasn't dead. Black Mamba had disappeared. No sign of him or the weapons Tony had made. Tony wasn't sure whether to be relieved or scared. He started to manufacture defenses to the weapons. Not ones that Black Mamba would know he had made, but all-encompassing shields that - huh - just happened to deflect those guns. Be careful, Sstark.

Of course, villains never stay hidden for long. One day, Tony recieved an A-1 Avengers priority call from Captain America. Apparently, some weird guy dressed as a snake, calling himself the... Black Mamba? had shown up in Central Park with an army of goons. And guns.

 _Funny,_ Steve had said, _they almost looked like Starktech._ Yeah. Funny.

So, here Iron Man was, suited up, facing down the one man who could turn his life upside down. And he was sick of hearing the words _Black Mamba_ , probably more than even you (hi readers! nice to see you stuck along this far!). He was Tony Stark! Billionaire! Genius! Playboy! Philanthropist! Iron Man, for god's sake! Cap gave the call to assemble, and the two sides roared into battle, each fighting with every tool at their disposal. Tony? He went straight for the head of the snake, metal-suited figure blasting through the crowd until he stood in front of the man himself. 

"Snake-man." he spat. Black Mamba smirked, holding up a button.

"Thissss isss it, Ssstark," he laughed, "here'ssss the _real_ choicccce." Tony's eye twitched and he was formulating a plan of attack when suddenly a red, white, and blue shield flew from the edges of the battle. But the owner hadn't seen the button, and even if he had, he would have no idea what it was for. Tony watched in horror as Black Mamba's body twisted and fell on his right hand. The one holding the deadliest weapon. 

On the edge of the battle, Bucky collapsed. Tony was too late before he even started moving, as a goon gave Bucky one venom blast to the head. 

Game over.


	4. Whumptober Day 7: I've Got You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: support, carrying, enemy to caretaker
> 
> Ship: Fratt
> 
> This is where the chapters start getting shorter. Turns out, it's hard to write twelve pages every day.
> 
> This ship is literally The Most Underrated Ship Ever. They're so perfect, and this is the one and only ship for Frank. Change my mind.

The Punisher gazed down at the goon, allowing himself the smallest smirk as he prepared to shoot. One more thug down, one more strike against the Kingpin. And this man had given him all the information he needed anyway. The rendezvous, the locations of two warehouses, and another piece of the puzzle. His finger tightened around the trigger, but before he could press it down all the way, a red billy club flew out of the shadows and knocked his hand aside, causing Frank to misfire. The henchman scrambled for the door as Frank spun around, angry eyes searching for the other person he now knew was there. A red form emerged from the darkness, retrieving his billy club.

"Murdock." Frank said, glaring over at the vigilante.

"I'm not Matt Murdock," Daredevil said, "but no matter who I am, I can't let you shoot an unarmed man."

"Nice speech, _Murdock_ ," Frank replied, casting a glance towards the door, "but that man was a threat and criminal. He'd killed dozens of people, directly and indirectly. I was serving justice where justice can't reach."

Daredevil folded his arms. "Justice wasn't yours to give, Frank."

Frank snarled at him, "No, it wasn't. But it's _become_ mine to give."

Matt shook his head and said, "You should've just let him go. You taught him a lesson."

"I want him to take that lesson to hell, and there's one way to do that. Get in my way, Red, and I'll give you the same."

Daredevil shifted his position, unfolding his arms and shot back, "That's exactly what I'm here to do. We're both after the Kingpin, and I can't let you mess up my chances to bring him to _real_ justice."

"Fine." Frank responded cooly. He raised his gun and pointed it at Matt's chest. "If that's the way you want it to be."

Daredevil looked down the barrel of the gun at Frank and told him, "Let's see how good your marksmanship is." Then, before Frank even had a chance to draw in a breath, Matt had vaulted out of the window and onto the fire escape. "Catch me. If you can." Frank didn't reply, just sprinted and jumped out the window after him.

Daredevil led the Punisher in a long chase, sizing up Castle's skills and expertise. He was surprisingly agile, for a man who was both already muscular and weighed down with equipment. If Frank wasn't shooting at him, it might've almost been...fun. Still, something seemed off. Frank's bullets weren't even coming close to grazing his skin, and though Daredevil had a fair amount of faith in his own abilities, the Punisher didn't get his name from missing his targets. So he must be missing on purpose, but the question now was why. Matt could only come up with two reasons. One: he needed Daredevil alive for something. Two: Frank just didn't want to kill him. Which seemed _highly_ unlikely, considering how viciously they had targeted each other in the past. The question gnawed at Matt until he eventually swung down into an abandoned alleyway in the north side of Hell's Kitchen. He spun and turned to Frank, pointing his billy club at Frank's chest and narrowing his eyes.

"Castle, you're up to something." Daredevil said, scanning the Punisher's face and hearing his pulse beat slightly faster. His hunch had been right.

"I'm always up to something, Murdock. What thing are you talking about?" Frank growled, pointing his gun back.

"Why are you pulling your punches?" Matt asked him, senses alert. Frank's jaw worked, but that could mean anything.

"'Cause I need you alive," Frank spat out finally, "you keep the criminals soft." He smirked as Daredevil's face dropped ever so slightly.

Then Matt's expression quirked into his customary sardonically surly smirk. (Ooh, alliteration!) "You think I keep the criminals... _soft_?"

"Yeah, Murdock," Frank replied, "after all, you're the one who never teaches them a real lesson."

Matt huffed, preparing a comment, but suddenly a voice barked out, "Hey! Hands in the air!" They both turned quickly to see a policeman, glaring at them and pointing a gun. Daredevil cursed internally. How had he let someone get this close, let alone the cops? Damn Frank Castle, professional distraction.

"I said, hands in the air!" the cop called, and Matt let his billy club clatter to the ground, slowly raising his hands. He could "see" that next to him, Frank hadn't moved.

"Drop the gun, Frank." Daredevil muttered out of the corner of his mouth, but Frank whispered back, "How about I don't?"

"Last warning or I'll shoot!" the policeman yelled. 

"Go ahead." Frank growled, grinning sadistically. "I think I'd survive, what about you?"

The other man paused, uncertain, then trained his gun on Matt. "I-I'll shoot your friend." Daredevil scanned around them, looking for some way out of this. There was no cover, nowhere to go before he could get a bullet between his ribs. And he had dropped his only weapon.

"Let me handle this." Frank said to Matt.

Matt paused, but then sighed and grumbled "Fine. But non-lethal force only, or you're going to catch it when we're free." The Punisher just looked at him, winked, and charged for the policemen. The man turned and shot at the bright white skull that everyone did, but the two shots never pierced Frank's flesh. Matt made a note of that - Kevlar, that's why his heartbeat had been a little more muffled than a normal person. Frank only winced, never breaking stride. The cop fumbled for his radio, but before he could even get ahold of it, the Punisher was on him, tackling him to the ground. Daredevil sprinted forward as well, hoping to stop Frank just in case he decided to do anything stupid. He was almost there, but he was distracted with his thoughts when the patrolman shot one more time. Matt's heart jumped in his chest as he felt the bullet rip through part of his leg. He stumbled as Frank cuffed the policeman, knocking him out. Matt sat down with a thump, holding his leg and gritting his teeth as the pain washed over him. When he could open his eyes again, Frank was kneeling next to him, rifling through his belt pouches.

"The one time I forget bandages..." Frank muttered to himself, then said to Matt, "Try not to move. If we stop the bleeding, I have a safehouse near here where I have bandages."

Matt let out a small laugh and gritted out, "Why do you care, Castle? Helping people isn't usually your thing." Maybe he was being rude, but the pain was making him nauseous and he didn't care about pleasantries.

"I started caring when you let the criminals get soft, Murdock." Frank replied, frowning and looking around.

"I'm not Matt Murdock." Daredevil said automatically, but Frank just rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Sure, Murdock."

He cast one last gaze around and said, "There's nothing I could use to bind your wound, but in order to move you, we need to stop the bleeding. Well, I guess I could..." Frank paused, then sighed and pulled his Punisher shirt over his head, exposing the bullet-proof vest. And his biceps, but Matt definitely didn't notice those. 

"Here." Castle muttered, handing it to Matt and shivering slightly, which Matt also didn't notice, and it definitely didn't make his face a little warmer.

He bound his leg quickly so he didn't have to focus on Frank, and commented, "Nice vest."

"Thanks. Vibranium-laced. Cost a pretty penny." Frank replied, offering Matt a hand up. Matt tried to stand on his own, not willing to depend on anyone else, but then his leg gave out and he half-fell again before Frank grabbed his arm.

"I can walk on my own." Matt muttered as Frank supported him, but he also didn't pull away.

Frank snorted and said, "Like hell you can, Red. Only if you want to cause permanent damage to your leg. Then who'd make my job easier for me?"

"Oh, in your dreams, Castle." Daredevil grumbled, focusing on the bandage so he didn't have to pay attention to Frank himself. There was a moment of silence as they both struggled for words, but then there was the distant _whoop!_ of a police car. Matt could hear that it was only a couple blocks and moving fast towards them. 

"That car's coming this way," he told Frank, "we're going to need to move." He took a step forward, but the car was almost on them, so close that even Frank could see the lights flashing.

"Oh, we don't have _time_ for this." Frank muttered, as the noise of the engine grew closer. He quickly scooped up Matt bridal-style and started running, drawing a shout from the patrol car. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Matt demanded, face turning as red as his suit.

"I'm saving _both_ of us, Red." Frank replied, ducking into another alley just around the corner to lose their pursuit. The car roared past them, then faded into the distance. 

Matt put his face in the hand that wasn't pinned against Frank's chest and grumbled, "They're gone. Will you put me down?"

"What's the magic word?" Frank asked him, eyes alight with what could only be described as malicious humor.

Matt stared at him for a minute, hoping he was joking, but Frank's eyes stared straight at him until he growled out, "Will you _please_ let me down?"

Frank smirked down at him and said, "No."

They reached Frank's safehouse ten minutes later and Daredevil had to admit to himself, it might've taken a lot longer if he'd tried to walked. Frank set him down on a table, moving into the other adjacent room, and Matt looked at his leg, starting to untie the makeshift tourniquet.

He gingerly began to pull the blood-soaked material away from the wound, but then Frank called from the next room, "You had better not be doing anything stupid to your leg, Murdock."

Daredevil stopped unwrapping the cloth and sighed, "I'm not Matt Murdock."

Frank walked back in and grinned at him, then said, "Murdock, I _know_ who you are. There's no point in even denying it anymore. Even if you didn't have the same bruises from the fights Daredevil had, I have photographic evidence."

Matt squinted at him, heart starting to beat faster - there couldn't be actual proof, could there? He'd been so careful - and replied, " _What_ photographic evidence, Castle?"

Frank looked at him for a minute, then walked over to a nearby table and grabbed a short stack of photos, handing them to Matt. Daredevil flipped through them, drawing in breath sharply as he realized these pictures were exactly what Frank had said. There was one shot of the costume in his closet, one of himself, half-in, half-out of the costume, two pictures comparing bruises Daredevil had versus wounds that _mysteriously_ showed up on Matt Murdock. 

He opened his mouth, trying to come up with words, and eventually said weakly, "Do - do you always stalk people?"

"Nah," Frank replied, "just people who intrigue me." Then he continued in the same breath, "The bullet missed most of the important tendons and muscles, it's more of a deep graze, so you should be all clear for crime-fighting in about a month, give or take a couple days."

"Yeah, right." Matt replied, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. Right." Frank echoed, narrowing his eyes threateningly, then continuing, "I find out you're out in that costume before your leg is healed, and I will pay you a visit, Murdock." He looked at Daredevil for a long moment, almost daring him to deny the name.

Matt stared back, then sighed, looking away. If Castle already knew who he was, had incontrovertible proof, well then, what was the point in hiding... He pushed back his hood to reveal his mess of red hair and sightless eyes. Frank's heart didn't even jump, like many people's did when they saw his eyes.

Matt steeled himself and then threw caution to the wind and told Frank, "Call me Matt." 


	5. Whumptober Day 8: Where Did Everybody Go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: "don't say goodbye", abandoned, isolation
> 
> Ship: Hulkeye
> 
> This was a trip of discovery. I discovered I have no idea how the police would contain a Hulk, I have no idea how the justice system works, and that I will never ever write another Hulkeye fanfiction. While some of the scenes are probably from the Incredible Hulk movie (I forgot whether the cave was in Mexico, Brazil, or Guatemala), the characters' personalities are largely based off of the comic book versions, Clint being a little saucier, and Bruce having a little more of a backbone. And more in control of his abilities. But he's not dead. Is he still dead in the comics?

"Doctor Bruce Banner, you are under arrest for the endangerment of innocent lives and suspected manslaughter." Bruce heard through his shock. He heard the clink of handcuffs around his wrists - purely ceremonial, all of the policemen had Hulkbuster level tasers - but he couldn't feel the metal. _Stay calm_ _, stay calm._ he told himself.

The policeman continued, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of l-," but he was cut off as Clint marched forward, shoving his face in the other man's and demanding, "What is this?"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back." the cop said. 

Clint snarled back, "The hell I will. What are you doing?" Bruce blinked hard, the gamma rising in his veins as the voices rose around him. _Stay calm, stay calm. It's going to be okay, Hulk._ But then a voice he knew well snarled **"NO"** and struggled to the surface, taking over his mind and his body. No, this couldn't happen, he needed to do this the right way.

"Nooogrrraaargh." Bruce choked out, swelling and turning green. He knew what the guards would do, even if Hulk didn't. _Hulk, listen to me!_ he yelled. _They have tasers powerful enough to knock the both of us out! Let me work this out._ But Hulk just looked at the puny men around him and scattered them all with one sweep of his hand, then leapt into the air and far away from the scene.

 _Hulk! Running away won't work! We need to get back, if we get back, I can make it so no one chases us._ Hulk snorted and kept jumping away.

**THEY ALWAYS CHASE. HULK MONSTER.**

_No, Hulk, you're not a monster, we just need to show everyone else that._

**NOT LISTENING.**

_Come on, just go back._

**NO.**

Clint stared up at the sky, searching for Bruce's - no, the Hulk's - silhouette as he jumped. If he just knew what direction Hulk was going in, maybe Clint could follow and see if he could talk to Hulk and Bruce. But there was no indication. The policemen around him groaned, waking up. Clint didn't know if he had been spared from Hulk's "attack" because he'd been recognized or whether he'd just been lucky. Either way, he'd been given a chance and he was going to take it.

The Hulk finally came to a rest in a cave. One that Bruce recognized well. This was where they had taken Betty Ross, during that thunderstorm.

_Really? You went back here? This is the first place they'll look, Hulk._

**DON'T** **CARE.**

_Take me back, Hulk._

**NO.**

Bruce shrank, regaining control of his body and falling to his knees, panting hard. He closed his eyes, trying to quiet the Hulk, then stumbled to his feet, resting one hand against the wall of the cave. He tried to walk out of the cave, but as soon as he got close, his legs locked.

**DON'T GO.**

_Let me go._

**NO.**

_Don't you know any other words? Like yes? And what are we going to do when we need food?_

But Hulk didn't reply. Bruce growled, rubbing his head and trying to calm down again. He needed to find a way out, back to New York and the Avengers and - Clint. Shit, had he hurt Clint?

His memories were blurry, but then Hulk told him **DIDN'T HURT BIRDMAN.**

_You mean Clint?_

**BIRDMAN.**

Bruce sighed at Hulk's stubbornness, then sat down. He had no way to disobey the other person in his head, given that Hulk could take over at any minute. Clint would come and rescue him.

Clint stormed into the Avengers compound, radiating such determination that most of the room half-flinched away from him.

"We need to go rescue Bruce." he announced, grabbing his quiver from where it sat in the corner, and slinging it over his shoulder, then reaching for his bow.

"Whoa, whoa," Steve interjected, grabbing Clint's arm, "need to go rescue Bruce from who? What happened?"

Clint pulled his arm away and replied, "Bruce and I were _going to go for a walk_. Not doing anything bad. When, out of nowhere, these cops show up and try to arrest Bruce, saying he killed someone or something. So Bruce turns into the Hulk and jumps away and now I'm going to find him."

"Bruce _killed_ someone?" Tony asked incredulously. The Avengers looked around at each other, eyes wide. 

Natasha walked into the room at that moment and, seeing everyone's faces, asked, "What happened? Is someone posting pictures of Steve sleeping again?"

"No, Bruce might have killed someone." Pietro told her.

Steve looked at the others and said, "Wait, what about-" but then Clint overrode him, narrowing his eyes and asking, "So, who's with me?"

There was a silence, then Tony responded, "...do you even know where he is?"

Clint frowned slightly and answered, "Well, maybe not, but I have some very educated guesses."

"Educated. A word that has never been used to describe Clint before." Nat muttered in the back, smirking.

Clint stuck out his tongue at her and reiterated, "So, who wants to go look for Bruce with me?"

Another silence, then Pietro said, "You know, you don't even need to go anywhere. I can look everywhere before you can blink, Clint. And if I don't find him, well, then you've got a real problem."

"Yeah...," Clint sighed, "but then you'll have to carry me because we don't want him to freak out, and then you'll have to somehow transport two adult men back here. Which you can't do, don't even try."

"You underestimate my speed," Pietro replied, "I can get him back before he even realizes what just happened, then you can talk to him or whatever it is you want to do."

Clint paused, then sighed and grumbled, "Stop taking the wind out of my sails. Rescuing people is what I do best. But sure, sure, go ahead." He paused, thinking of all the places where Bruce could be, then remembering a moment Bruce had told him about, long ago. "Try...um, this one cave in...Guatemala, I think maybe?"

Pietro looked at him and said, "That's very specific, thank you." 

"Hey, you volunteered!" Clint told him, shrugging. Pietro smirked and mouthed "Old man." before taking off, disappearing before Clint could even blink, as promised.

There was an awkward silence, then Steve asked, "So, about these pictures..."

Pietro raced through streets and towns, running through the US, then Mexico. He finally reached Guatemala and looked around as fast as he could. A cave, maybe in Guatemala. Great, this was so easy. Caves, caves, where would there be caves? Where water had once been, right? But where would water have been? He checked around the coast. No caves containing Bruce Banner. Near rivers? No, no one was there either. Pietro was beginning to lose stamina as he searched his mind for any other places. High places sometimes had caves, didn't they? He ran up the hills, looking in every pockmark and crevice that could hold the Hulk. Pietro was starting to lose hope when he suddenly spotted a human form huddled in the back of a cave-like hole. He dared not to hope too much, due to having already found a) dead bodies, which had been not Bruce Banner and very alarming, and b) homeless men and women in places he would have never expected. But as he neared the cave, the man's face turned towards the entrance and Pietro saw it was Bruce himself. _Thank God_ , he grumbled to himself, putting on one last burst of speed. This was the tricky bit, getting Banner back before he even had the chance to Hulk out. 

Bruce squinted at the light, just waking up. He had figured sleeping might calm Hulk down, and it had seemed to work. If only - Bruce's thought was cut off as suddenly the world blurred. _What the hell?_ Bruce just had time to think before he was suddenly back with the Avengers.

 **HULK GO FAST!** Hulk cheered in Bruce's head.

"What- what just-?" Bruce asked breathlessly, taking a deep breath.

"Hi. I rescued you. Don't Hulk out, please." Clint answered, grinning nervously.

"What? I'm fine, Hulk's fine, (apparently he likes running?) but how did I even..." Bruce questioned, looking around.

Pietro, panting, waved at him and told him, "Actually, I rescued you."

Clint glared at him and replied, "But it was my idea."

"Ehh..." Pietro muttered under his breath, but didn't press the point.

"Wait, but did you actually kill someone?" Nat asked from her chair, looking over with interest in her eyes.

"Kill someone?" Bruce asked, turning pale, "they think I killed someone?""

"Um, yeah, that's what they said." Clint replied.

"I thought they just hated the Hulk."

"Well, there's that too..."

"Shut up, Clint, you're not helping." Tony told Clint, shoving his shoulder. Clint glared at him and huffed indignantly.

"So...what are we going to do?" Bruce asked, trying to remain calm.

"Let me place a call," Tony replied, "you might have heard of her. Name of Jennifer Walters."

"Oh God." Bruce muttered, putting his head in his hands.


	6. Whumptober Day 9: For The Greater Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: "take me instead", "run", ritual sacrifice
> 
> Ship: Scogan (again)

"It'll be okay." Scott tried to reassure Logan, but the knife at his throat made it hard to talk.

The knife-holder grinned down at him and said, "Will it?" Logan knelt at the foot of the "altar" that these creeps had built, guarded by two men. Which would have been no problem for him, but Scott was in danger, so Logan sat still and seethed. Only the two of them had been sent on this mission, and it was an understatement to say they were regretting it now. On the outside, it had just looked like another resurgence of some small-town anti-mutant cult. Nothing big, easy fry. But Logan and Scott had gone to check, they had followed the clues (which they now knew had been planted), straight into AMEN's (Anti-Mutant Extermination, Now) trap. They had been jumped by numbers they would have never guessed. Logan and Scott had fought hard, but once Scott was taken, so was Logan. They had been rendered unconscious and dragged to this...headquarters? It had computer panels all around, but also an altar and candles and cobwebs and all the essential creepy cult items. There was also one more detail Logan had noticed - cameras. Whatever was going down, it was obviously going to be broadcast or recorded for someone. 

Logan got his answers as the razor-wielder, name unknown, asked a cameraman - who seemed so out of place - "Are we ready?" 

The man nodded and called "Live in five, four, three, two..." Across the nation, every broadcast was suddenly hijacked by the image of Cyclops held hostage and Wolverine kneeling on the ground. Not by choice, of course, anyone could see the rage in his eyes, so bright that some shied away from even their TV screens.

The hooded leader began to recite his speech, staring into the camera: "Citizens of America. For too long, the species of homo sapiens have lived in fear of homo superior, when it is _they_ who should be afraid of _us_. For do we not have numbers on our side, and, dare I say, intelligence? Although the name of their species tells us that they are better than us, their actions say otherwise. Many before me have tried to tell you this, through peace, through violence, but still the population refuse to listen. Well, listen now, and listen well. Here, you can see, I have here two of the infamous _X-Men-_ " he spat the word like a curse, "-Wolverine and Cyclops. I see the end of the gene-freaks is near, and I'm here to prove it. The muties need a lesson taught, and who better than I?"

He grinned at the camera and asked "Are you ready, America?" 

"No!" Logan shouted, lunging forward, but at that instant, the razor ripped across Scott's throat. Scott screamed in pain, and Logan fought his way free of his guards, but blood had already begun to spurt from Scott's neck, drenching the stones and his X-suit. Logan struggled against his bonds, snarling ferociously.

"Watch, everyone," the man called, "watch this beast try to protect his fallen. Was he your mate, too? Have you added another sin to your already deservedly long list?" He gestured at Scott, who was wavering, eyes rolling back as he collapsed.

Logan let out a wordless roar and sprung for the leader, tackling him to the ground and popping his claws. He stabbed downward, wanting to feel the metal sinking deep into this monster's flesh, but just before he pierced the man's stomach, his victim whispered "That's right. Show them the monster you _really_ are." Logan paused, teeth gritted, and forced his berserker rage down until he could retract his claws. Then worry replaced Logan's anger and he scrambled over to Scott's body. 

"Come on, Scott, we have to go." he said, trying to lift Scott up. Scott's eyes fluttered and Logan could his heart slowing.

"Scott!" Logan said urgently, trying to stop the bleeding. 

"Run." Scott whispered, blood leaking between Logan's fingers. 

"No, no, come on." Logan whispered as he tried to listen for Scott's heartbeat. "No, Scott, come on, we have to leave, go back to Professor X. We- we've got training tomorrow and - it's important, let's go, don't - please don't -" Then it hit him - Scott was dead. He stopped talking, eyes closed, as he felt the rage bubble up in him again. And this time he didn't stop it. He slowly turned his head, eyes feral, and looked at Scott's killer, who took a unconscious step back.

"T-the cameras..." the man squeaked, cowering slightly. Logan gave him a silent snarl and leapt at the cameras, tearing the innards apart until they were nothing but scrap metal. Then he growled as he slunk toward the leader, claws glittering in the darkened.

"Please - please don't..." the man whimpered, backing up against the wall. Logan gave him one last furious look and pounced, claws finally getting the blood they wanted.


	7. Whumptober Day 10: They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: blood loss, internal bleeding, trail of blood
> 
> Ship: Cablepool
> 
> Deadpool tells this story, also his personality may be a little skewed due to lack of extensive knowledge about anything except his comics.

Hey. It's Wade Wilson. I know you've all heard of me, because _everyone_ knows Deadpool, and if you don't, well, don't get mad if you see me sneaking in your window at night to murder you. Just kidding. I think. Now, y'all are talking to the _real_ Deadpool, not some sissy Ryan-Reynolds knock-off. Wade Wilson since 1991. The day I get my hands on that bastard running around with my name... _Anyway_ , I was asked to record my adventures myself instead of some lonely rando writing it down. I don't usually do this kind of thing, but let me tell you, there were a _lot_ of chimichangas involved.

I looked at these suggestions and quite a few stories came to mind, but apparently it has to be "age appropriate", whatever that means. Fortunately, I found a story that I don't even think my editor could disagree. (Yeah, I have an editor. That's so you don't have to read all my beautiful spelling.) It starts with me and Cable, just like it always does. Usually ends that way, too. Cable...man, those idiots over at Marvel haven't let us get together yet? I mean, apparently he's Thanos too, so just knock out two of my love interests with one stone, am I right? But it's whatever. So, there's these one hilarious story with me and him - _him and me? him and I?_ \- shh, I'm telling the story. Okay, so I think it was Wednesday. Or a Friday. Or any other day of the week. And Nathan appears in my living room, all non-creepy, and is like "Deadpool, I require your services!" **Well, I think it was more like "Wade, get your dumbass over here, I need a diversion and no one else is available."** Semantics. Now, I was having a great time with Yellow Box here - _hi_ \- and White Box - **hey** \- and polishing my guns and eating chimichangas, but the universe needed me, so I decided to go bravely into battle. _It was more like we whined about how we had stuff to do until Nate grabbed our arm._ Yeah, yeah, whatever. As I was saying - so we bodyslide - _ew, not like that!_ \- to this circus. Now, I love me a good circus, but I was planning for something a little more Cable-y. **Totally a word.** Maybe a barren rock in the depths of space, about to be sucked into a black hole. Or a lake of lava. _Insert joke about Cable being hot here._ But no, we had landed at the circus. 'N this was a real circus, lions and tigers and bears, oh my. Apparently circuses weren't outlawed yet, probably because it was the eighties. Ah, the eighties. I momentarily paused to wonder if I could market belt pouches in the 80s. _Answer: no. Apparently it causes Captain America to go insane or something? Don't ask us how._ Then Cable was pulling me into some shadows to have a totally secret conversation, and he says "Wade, I need you to cause a distraction." And we are _pros_ at distraction. **How do you think we've survived this long?** Obviously, I do the natural thing and charge into the ring acting like a elephant. **Very obvious, very natural.** I have to say, I think I was doing a great job, so it came as a surprisewhen this random lion pounced on me. Nate had disappeared already, of course. _Never around when we need him._ Anyway, so this lion got one good paw into my gut before I take out my katana and [CENSORED DUE TO VIOLENCE]. Man, you should have _seen_ it. Blood everywhere. And now the ringmaster dude's mad cuz that lion cost a lot or that's animal abuse or something. So now I've got an angry man and a crap ton of animals running after me, and I have to keep one hand over my stomach to keep...everything...from falling out. _**And**_ **we were keeping our elephant disguise up.** Ex-actly. So then Nate shows up, doesn't even ask me how I've been or what I've been up to, just grabs me and bodyslides - _STOP THINKING THAT -_ or whatever back to home sweet home. Then he starts yelling about how he only said to create a distraction - _Actually, I believe his exact words were "******* ****, Wade, what the **** do you think you were ******* doing, you ******* *******?!"_ \- same thing. So I said "I was causing a distraction, what more do you want?" **That's also not what we said.** Just shut up, who's telling the story? And then we had a big argument, just like usual. Then we kissed and made up - literally. Also like usual. And since this is supposed to be age-appropriate or whatever, I'mma have to stop there. Have a great time with your lives that aren't as good as mine and your lack of chimichangas. Deadpool out.


	8. Whumptober Day 11: Psych 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: defiance, struggling, crying
> 
> Ship: Stucky
> 
> So. Much. Angst. This is probably the angstiest fanfiction I have written in the entirety of Whumptober, except for MAYBE Day 17. Steve's hyper-responsibility and workaholism are back, so I had a lot to work with. Put on your angstiest music and enjoy.
> 
> Also, please marvel at my ability to fake text messages, and INSERT THEM INTO THE WRITING ITSELF. I feel like a magician.

One of the things that Bucky noticed changed the most since HYDRA was that Steve now spent a _lot_ of time out working. Not just saving-the-world working, but volunteering and random assistance working too. Which Bucky wouldn't mind at all if Steve didn't put so much of himself into it, staying out until the early A.M. and leaving a couple hours later. The others had noticed too, so Bucky knew he wasn't alone. Tony had commented, "Man, Cap really doesn't give himself a break, does he?" and Clint had asked Bucky if Steve had been this hard-working in the '40s too. Maybe Bucky was overreacting, but Steve was constantly pushing himself too far, even for a super-soldier, and Bucky had a feeling it couldn't end well. He didn't want to tell anyone else because he knew they'd just tell him he didn't have to psychoanalyze Steve, but... if he was the one who could read Steve the best, shouldn't he try to intervene? He had tried to tell Steve to slow down when Steve came home with more bruises than any other Avengers or when he literally passed out - as in, lost consciousness - on the couch. But Steve had never taken anyone's advice on when to back off, and he certainly wasn't starting now.

Yeah, okay, Steve had noticed Bucky's anxious face, but Bucky usually looked like that when he looked at Steve these days. So what if he maybe worked a little too hard sometimes? The world needed him and he didn't have time for anything else. He certainly didn't have time for people telling him that he'd done enough. He couldn't hear that until it was true. Ask him when that was, and he wouldn't know, but he did know that he _would_ know once it happened. There had to be an end, right? But until then, he had to keep going, regardless of the cost or what face Bucky made at him.

Bucky continued to bide his time for two weeks, not wanting to be overprotective, but he remained mildly anxious. Steve continued to push himself further, to the point where Thor or Tony would show up with an unconscious Steve and explain he had collapsed. And Bucky would smile tightly, thank them, and try not to question Steve when he finally woke up again. Still, Bucky worried one day they would show up without Steve, so one day when Steve didn't appear again after a mission that wasn't supposed to be too long, Bucky started to get scared. However, he knew how crazy the hero life could be, so he forced himself to wait 24 hours before he called Tony, almost hoping Tony would say they were still on a mission. But Tony picked up and told him they had finished a long time ago. Bucky thanked him and then called Steve's phone, concern growing. His calls went to voicemail the first three times, then on the fourth Bucky heard Steve pick up. 

"Hey, Buck-" Steve started to say, but Bucky cut him off, half-yelling, "Don't 'hey, Buck' me, where the hell are you?" 

"I'm just helping around the city, nothing drastic, why?" Steve replied, sounding genuinely puzzled.

" _Tony_ said your mission finished twenty-two hours ago."

"Oh. Huh, I didn't realize it's been that long."

Bucky drew in a deep breath, mustering his patience, and said through gritted teeth, "Steve."

"Look, Bucky, I just need one more hour, I'm in the middle of something." Steve answered, voice getting a little distant like he was looking away.

"Steve, come on." Bucky growled.

"One more hour." Steve answered, then hung up. Bucky paused for a moment, a little stunned, and looked at his phone. Steve had never just hung up on him before...

True to his word, Steve reappeared at the door an hour later, dirty and exhausted and avoiding Bucky's questions.

"I just want to take a shower and then sleep, Buck, can we talk tomorrow?" was all he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Sure, whatever, but I think you forgot something, _Steve_." Bucky replied, watching Steve pause and look back, so confused that Bucky hated him a little bit.

"What'd I forget?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Bucky glared at him, trying to stop his emotions from boiling over, and spat, "It was our date night." _The first one in three months, you bastard._ he added silently.

It had been the one date night Bucky had thought Steve would show up for. Steve had sworn he would be there, after blowing off all the other ones Bucky had tried to get him to go to. Bucky understood the whole hero thing, and he tried not to push too hard for attention, but it was hard when he was still supposed to be an outlaw, it wasn't like he had anything to distract himself with. Bucky had thought that maybe he could trust Steve just this once, he had seemed so sincere. Even when Tony had called with a job, 12 hours earlier, Steve had smiled and promised he would be back in time. And Bucky, ever the idiot, had believed him. He had pinned the accumulated hope of eleven failed date nights on this one, but he should have known Steve wouldn't show. He knew maybe it was selfish, but he had been understanding the first five times, tolerant the next three, stoic for two, hopeless for one. Maybe it just wasn't meant to work?

When Steve finally came to bed that night, Bucky closed his eyes, hoping Steve would think he was asleep, but no.

Steve paused, then whispered, "Bucky, I - I'm really sorry. I completely forgot and-"

"Goodnight, Steve." Bucky said, voice muffled by the pillow.

"Bucky, really, if there's any way I can-"

"Please, Steve, just go to bed. I don't want to talk right now, it's late, I'm tired."

Steve hovered for a moment, then backed off, letting Bucky relax. There was a long pause, then Steve whispered, "I'm sorry." again. Bucky ignored him, smushing his face harder into his pillow and biting his tongue. _Good night, Steve._

_..._

_I love you._

When Bucky woke up, Steve was already gone. Of course. There was a note, attached with a magnet to Bucky's arm. Which Steve had apparently forgotten he hated. What else was new? The note read, "Going to get some groceries. Be home soon." Bucky frowned - they didn't need groceries- then he growled, realizing Steve had slipped through his fingers again. Well, fine, he wasn't going to sit around trying to find a job and wondering if Steve was dead, which is what he usually did. Bucky got up and dressed, determined to _do_ something with his life. He texted Natasha: 

There was an almost instant reply, and Bucky let out a breath of relief. 

Bucky grumbled to himself, cursing Nat's goddamn assassin intuition, and texted back:

Well, at least someone had time for him.

A while later, Steve slunk back into the apartment guiltily, but no one was home. Then Steve saw the note pinned to the fridge with the same magnet he had used to attach the note to Bucky's arm. The paper read: "Went to Nat's. I'll be home whenever I'll be home." Steve looked at it for a minute, then crumpled it up. Now he knew he was in trouble. Bucky usually only went to Natasha's to discuss something bad that had/was happening. Steve couldn't think of anything bad - except for him. Well, since he had probably about two more hours, it wouldn't hurt to go out again...

"So - I don't know what to do." Bucky sighed, having summarized his problem for Natasha.

Nat looked at him seriously, steel blue eyes scanning him, then said, "Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes, Nat, I've tried _talking_ to him." 

"No, I'm talking about actually talking to him. Making him sit down and listen to what you're saying, instead of just saying some words at him as he runs out the door."

"...well, sort of. It's very hard to keep him pinned down when he's constantly leaving and due to the fact that I'm still technically public enemy one, it's hard to just catch him anywhere."

Natasha took a sip of her coffee and replied, "So stop him from leaving."

Bucky looked at Natasha, convinced she'd gone insane. "Are you kidding? He's pretty much unstoppable."

"I can tell Tony to take him off of the alert list."

"You- you can do that?"

"Yeah, it's easy."

"That...would be amazing. Thanks, Nat." Bucky said, smiling for the first time in days.

Steve had only been home for five minutes when Bucky walked in, whistling. He looked happy and Steve realized how much he'd missed Bucky's grin, the way it reached his eyes and lit up his entire face until you couldn't help but smile back. 

"Hi...," Steve said, feeling like that sixteen-year-old from Brooklyn again.

Bucky looked over at him and Steve didn't miss the way anxiety flickered in his eyes, or the way his face dropped slightly. Had he really been so bad of a boyfriend that just looking at him lowered Bucky's mood?

"Hey." Bucky replied, still smiling, but ever so slightly less than before.

"Bucky... I - I didn't know how to apologize, so I got you some...flowers?" Steve trailed off embarrassedly, gesturing to some roses on the counter. Bucky looked at him in surprise and Steve offered him a sheepishly apologetic smile. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but then Steve's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He looked up at Bucky, then said, "One second." and checked it. Bucky moved to the cupboard, looking for a cup or a vase or something to put the flowers in. 

Steve frowned as he read the text and said "Huh." 

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, praying it wasn't Avengers-related, but Steve replied, "Clint just texted everyone saying he was on his way. On his way to what?"

He typed back a response and Bucky said quickly, "I'm sure it's nothing."

But then Steve's phone buzzed again and Steve's frown grew. "Clint says...there's a Sinister Six fight downtown and Spider-Man's out of town, so it's up to us to stop them. Weird, I didn't get an alert."

"Yeah...weird..." Bucky muttered, looking away. Steve looked up at him with suspicion, but then he turned back to the conversation.

"And," Steve said, voice growing darker, " _Tony_ says that he thought I asked to be taken off of the call list." Bucky drew in a breath. Damn Tony. This was not good.

"Bucky, did you have something to do with this?" Steve asked, and Bucky froze. There were two options here: come clean, or play dumb. If he came clean, there was a good chance Steve would be furious. But if he pretended he had nothing to do with it, then Steve would just leave to join the fight, ask to be added back to the priority alerts, and they would be back at square one. _If_ he reasoned with Steve, then _maybe_ Steve wouldn't leave and maybe he would see the reason in Bucky's actions.

Bucky took a deep breath, steeling himself, and muttered, "Maybe Nat volunteered to tell Tony to stop sending you alerts for a little while, not forever, just a day or two, and maybe I said yes?" 

He fiddled with the petals of one of the roses so he didn't have to look at Steve's face, but he could hear the suppressed anger in Steve's voice as he repeated slowly, "You took me off the call list?" 

"Yes..."

"What the _hell,_ Bucky?" Steve asked, eyes flashing. 

Bucky felt his own anger, which he had kept in check for so long, rising and he shot back heatedly, "Maybe I just wanted one day without you running off to gods-know-where."

"Bucky, I have a job to do."

"Yes, Steve, I'm _very_ aware of that. But I thought that if Nat _and_ Tony said the same thing that I've been saying for months now, you'd listen."

"I have to be Captain America, I can't just take the day off! What if this is the one day that they really need me and I'm here?"

"They're perfectly capable of handling any situation you could, Steve. You've _helped_ all the people, more than even needed it!"

"Bucky, there's always more to do!"

"I know that, Steve, and I was understanding for a very, verylong time. Can you remember the last time we met up outside the house? Can you remember the last time we slept together? Can you remember the last time we _interacted_ without you apologizing for arriving late, or having to leave early? Because if so, you're far more lucky than I am."

"I can't just abandon my post, not even for a day!"

"I know you can't, Steve, you've made that abundantly clear."

"People need me!"

" _I_ need you!" Bucky shouted back, then paused, taking in a deep breath.

"Do whatever, Steve." he finally muttered, turning away so Steve couldn't see he was trying not to cry.

"Bucky-"

"It's your job. It's up to you. But you're going to have to find a new place to stay if you leave." He gave Steve a look and then disappeared into their bedroom.

Steve stared after Bucky, then at his phone. One new message. He swiped up, reading Clint's text. "Are you coming?" Here was the choice he knew he would have to make eventually, just like so many before, with a superhero twist. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, glancing at the closed bedroom door. "Be there soon." he typed, but hesitated before hitting the send button. If he sent this, if he went to the fight, there was no going back. Bucky wouldn't take him back, not even if he begged. Was he willing to give that up? Or he could cut back on the working? But what about the people who might die if he wasn't there? Theoretical people, of course, but still... His finger lowered, but instead of hitting send, he hit the backspace. He deleted the text and typed, "Sorry, I can't today." Then he took a deep breath and sent it. There was one last buzz and it was just a text from Natasha:

"Good choice."


	9. Whumptober Day 12: I Think I've Broken Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: broken down, broken bones, broken trust
> 
> Ship: Winterhawk
> 
> Keep an eye out for my Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. reference no one else will remember!

"Come on, it'll be fine." Clint cajoled, nudging Bucky.

Bucky gave him The Look and replied, "Clint, what you're suggesting is that we break into a random H.Y.D.R.A. base and torch the ammunition, for no apparent reason."

"Yeah, come on, it'll be fun - and - every bullet that goes up in flame is a life we save." Clint persuaded, grinning encouragingly. 

"Where did you even get the intel or the plan?"

"A reliable source - she's never let me down."

"...don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"You're doing the puppy-dog eyes again."

"...so is that a yes?"

"What's your plan? Every H.Y.D.R.A. outpost has a guard detail, and while I'm fairly confident that I could survive, I'd like to get out with the both of us alive."

"Well, I'm not sure whether to be touched or offended, but anyway, we bring Sam! He's a great distraction! I'm telling you, it's perfect. And no one has to know besides us. I found a vent next to the tank of gasoline inside, and we could just crawl in, drop a match, and get out."

"Okay, so it doesn't seem like I'm crucial to this mission."

"Backup, Barnes! You always need backup!"

Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to find more issues in Clint's plan, but it seemed fairly airtight. Unfortunately.

Clint beamed at him, taking Bucky's silence as a complicit agreement and said, "Great, I'll text Sam."

"Wait, I didn't exactly say yes-" Bucky started to protest, but Clint had already walked out, whistling so he couldn't hear Bucky's arguments.

Bucky sat back and grumbled to himself, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

It may have taken a lot of persuasion, but Sam finally agreed to meet them at the HYDRA warehouse. When they got there, Sam was already ready and waiting, looking resigned. Clint beamed, practically bouncing.

"So what exactly am I supposed to do, Clint?" Sam asked, sighing and folding his arms.

"Just fly around. Shoot at some people. Look dangerous. Meanwhile, Barnes and I'll sneak in through the vents and set the place on fire, easy peasy. Try to lure them out, no fatalities, no problems."

Sam let out a breath, then grumbled, "Alright."

"Whenever you're ready." Clint told him. Sam gave him one last look, then lowered his goggles. Bucky and Clint stepped back as Sam's wings unfolded.

"Thank, Sam, I owe you one." Clint said as Sam's wings flapped once, propelling him into the air.

Sam wheeled, catching a hot air pocket, and called, "Try three." Then he turned and swooped to the front of the building, where most of the guards were stationed. It took only moments for them to begin shouting and then shooting, Sam dodging and weaving skillfully to avoid their shots.

"Come on. We don't have much time." Clint whispered to Bucky, unscrewing the bolts on the vent grate and carefully crawling in. Bucky cursed all his life decisions that had led him to this moment, then crawled in after Clint, breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell of gasoline. They stumbled through the dark, pausing every few seconds so Clint could look through an exit to try to find theirs. It felt like an eternity before they reached the right duct. 

"Don't tell Tony I borrowed this." Clint breathed almost silently. He pulled out a diamond-tipped knife and sliced through the metal like it was butter, letting them escape into a small room.

"Bingo!" Clint muttered. Bucky looked around, alert and wary. They appeared to be in a small, (currently) unmanned experimentation room. There were papers on a table, but Bucky noticed that they had a very fine coating of dust. So the owner was out - for now. He turned back to Clint, who rustled around in his pockets before pulling out a long piece of string. He carefully unscrewed the top of the tank and set the string inside before pulling out a match. He struck it against the side of the box and lit the string before hastily clambering back into the vents, Bucky right behind him. They crawled as fast as they could, Bucky holding his breath, expecting to be blown to pieces with every second. Somehow they reached the outdoors and Clint hissed, "Quickly!" as Bucky tumbled out after him. They managed to get a few paces away before a loud BOOM rocked the ground. Bucky pushed Clint down and tried to shield them both with his arm, feeling his skin and hair burn slightly. Then all was silent and Bucky carefully stood up, waiting for his hearing to return. He looked around before realizing they were missing something.

"Where's Sam?" Bucky asked, turning to Clint. He couldn't see the familiar red-and-white figure anywhere. Sam was supposed to fly a safe distance away, then come back to them.

"I - I don't know." Clint replied, searching the skies. There was a horrified pause, then Bucky and Clint started running to the front of the base. It was (thankfully) abandoned, all of the HYDRA agents either fled or inside trying to salvage what little there was left. Abandoned except for one costumed figure on the blacktop.

"Fuck." Bucky cursed under his breath, sprinting over, heart pounding. He knelt next to Sam and Sam's eyes opened.

Sam coughed, spitting blood, and said painfully, "I miscalculated. Forgot about the updraft. They - they got my wing, and then as I fell..." he pulled his arm away from his torso, which was spotted with spreading red dots. 

"Oh no." Clint whispered, "no, no no, no." Sam coughed again, more violently, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Stay - stay still." Bucky told him, trying to think of what he should do. Sam needed help, where could they go? They weren't even supposed to be on this mission. There was the rumor of the Night Nurse, but Bucky didn't even know where she was.

Sam's eyes flickered shut again and he muttered, "Say - bye - to Steve for me, will you?" 

"No, Sam, you'll see him." Clint said, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Heh." Sam laughed quietly, struggling for breath. 

He continued, "and - and tell the others that-" 

The other two paused and Bucky asked, "Tell the others what?"

Sam never responded.


	10. Whumptober Day 13: Breathe In, Breathe Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: delayed drowning, chemical pneumonia, oxygen mask. I didn't include chemical pneumonia in this story.
> 
> Ship: Spideytorch
> 
> Ah, my favorite, a random deadly situation in which the main character has some thoughtful insights and sometimes dies. Don't ask how Johnny got to drowning, or where they are, because I don't know either.
> 
> For anyone who's interested:  
> Spidey and Johnny first met in Spider-Man #1, 1963.  
> The first Fantastic Four comic was created in 1961, although two Human Torches existed previously, Toro and Jimmy. They were both part of the Invaders. Toro was later Human Torch's protege, but was originally introduced in Human Torch Comics #2, 1940, back when it was Timely Comics. Jim Hammond is actually an android who appeared the in the first Timely Comic ever, Marvel Comics #1. Both are awesome.  
> The fact about the Fantastic Four turning Skrulls into cows is true. Fantastic Four #2. And Doctor Doom did originally have a tiger and a vulture and a book on demons. (Thanks, Brothers Marvel!) Fantastic Four #5.  
> Namor was created in 1939, appearing along with Jimmy in Marvel Comics #1. He participated in the Invaders as well and clashed/helped the Fantastic Four, X-Men, and Avengers many times.
> 
> Just some nerdy factoids.

Water can beat fire. Every toddler knows that, even Johnny Storm. Especially Johnny Storm. After he became the Human Torch, his nightmares turned from monsters in the closet to drowning, sinking in the endless blue, unable to breathe, unable to fly, unable to move. He'd wake up in a cold sweat and realize that it was a nightmare, that he was okay. But now, when he forced his eyes open, all Johnny could see was the blue of the water and the red of something he realized was his blood. Red and blue...

The first time Johnny had met Peter was when Spider-Man had tried to show up for a job. Well, more like broke into the Baxter Building demanding a job, but that's just semantics. 1963. What a crazy year. He'd forgotten about that memory. Spidey'd just showed up, tried to join. Sure, the Fantastic Five didn't sound horrible, but still... Reed refused to let anyone else join. Johnny had already been taken with this brightly-costumed figure who had so much self-assurance he had decided to invade the Baxter Building. And he _had_ gotten through Reed's security. Sounded like someone Johnny had wanted to be friends with, so he'd gotten a little closer - "come here often?" "you mean an alleyway where I just beat up criminals?" "...yeah, that's exactly what I meant." "well, then, yup, I spend most of my time here." - and he'd realized that this spider man, for all his heroics, was actually just a shy nerd who mostly wanted to be left alone. Which wasn't usually Johnny's speed, but still, something about this other boy made him want to protect this smol dweeb until the end of time. He'd eventually figured out that what he was feeling wasn't exactly just friendship, but he had to be careful - it was still the sixties. He still made friends with the "Spider-Man" and they eventually became best friends, until one day, he couldn't remember the day exactly, Spider-Man had pulled off his mask to reveal Peter Parker, mild-mannered high school student who had gained the "proportional strength and agility of an arachnid" and lost his uncle. That was when Johnny had really fallen in love, though of course he would never admit it. The following months - years - decades - blurred together again in red and blue, red and blue...

Still sinking. Why hadn't he woken up yet? His chest tightened and Johnny tried to stop himself from gasping for air. His flame raced weakly underneath his skin, going out as soon as it hit the water. Fire, fire, toil and trouble, fire burn and fire bubble...

We're going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship. The kids' jingle had always seemed so appropriate to Johnny. It _had_ been Reed's favorite ship, so much so that he couldn't bear to be parted from it, had recruited Ben to fly it, and somehow Sue and Johnny had finagled their way in. They'd all gone up in their favorite rocket ship, flying through sky, but then came the cosmic rays. Fire and rock and rubber and nothing. Now they try to tell you that metal had worked his way in, but Johnny knew that in the beginning, the _real_ beginning, there had only been Mole Man and the Skrulls - they'd turned the Skrulls into cows and it had been so funny, they'd laughed so hard for so long. Then came the doom. With a tiger and a vulture and a well-stocked bookshelf. They always won, though. The good guys always make it in the end. Fire, fire, toil and trouble.

Still sinking. Further, further, swimming in the ocean. Darling, it's better down where it's wetter...

Down where it's wetter. Atlantis. Namor. The Sub-Mariner. Guy'd always been obsessed with Sue, they'd fought over it so often. He'd kidnapped her, almost married her so many times that Johnny had lost count. Tried to persuade her to sleep with him in return for troops in the superhero Civil War, rumors said. Johnny didn't even want to know, but he did know that Namor had come through in the end, helped them fight, for all the good it did. They'd teamed up before, and sometimes Namor would talk about World War II, the Invaders - mostly about how inferior Johnny was to Toro and Jimmy. Which were apparently previous Human Torches. Along with a guy called "Captain America", Steve Rogers. Johnny hadn't paid much attention to Namor's ramblings until Captain America re-entered the scene. When was that? '63? '36? No, he wasn't even alive in '36. He'd heard Bucky Barnes was back, too, part of the Thunderbolts at one point, now working with the Falcon as an ex-Soviet assassin. Wonder what Namor thought of that...under the sea.

He was going to have to breathe sometime soon. Johnny started to suck in a breath, giving up, but then he saw the red and blue, red and blue. Something was grabbing his head. Peter? No, it couldn't be. There was something over his face and Johnny realized it was giving him air. He still didn't want to breathe, though. This was just a dream, after all, he was going to wake up any moment. But here he was, being rescued by the red and blue, something that never happened. They reached the air and then the land and Johnny lay still, blinking in the sudden light. Where was he? He felt something press on his chest and suddenly he was coughing up river water he wasn't even aware he'd swallowed.

"Johnny?" a voice asked anxiously, and Johnny squinted up at the costumed figure above him.

"Peter." he croaked.

"Shh, don't say my real name!" Spider-Man hissed, putting a finger over his mouth.

Johnny laugh-coughed and said as loudly as he could manage, "Thank you for saving me, _Spider-Man_."

"Oh good, you're going to be fine." Peter replied, rolling his eyes.

"'Course I am. I'm the Human Torch!" Johnny told him, fire racing across his skin weakly, then he had a coughing fit.

The good guys won. Red and blue and orange and yellow.


	11. Whumptober Day 14: Is Something Burning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: branding, heat exhaustion, fire
> 
> Ship: Spideytorch (It's just too perfect)
> 
> Yeah, okay, Whumptober's technically over, but I still have a lot to convert to typed form. If you liked this, then keep reading! It will continue to be updated every day, hopefully.

_Think think think,_ Peter told himself. There had to be some way out of this. _What would Mr. Stark do?_ He looked around again. He and Johnny were locked in separate glass tubes, across the room from each other, while Otto Octavius stood in the middle of the room, typing away on a keyboard and muttering to himself. Johnny was exhausted, having tried to melt the glass many times. He lay slumped against the wall, eyes half closed. Outside of the tubes, Peter could see a bunch of fun-looking equipment, the uses for which he didn't want to discover. The exit was to Peter's left. 

Otto hit a key with a sense of finality and said, "There. Now my plans can never be interrupted."

"And those plans are...?" Peter called, trying to buy some time, but Otto just looked at him and laughing, sneering, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Peter's mind raced, running through different plans, throwing them away, but then a realization hit him. The glass may be fireproof, but they were breathing, so that must mean there were some kind of holes for oxygen, no matter how small. And where oxygen could go, fire could follow.

He thanked Thor that his comms were still working and he hissed into them, "Johnny!" Johnny bolted up, looking around. 

"Can you still go supernova?" Peter whispered, and Johnny hesitated before replying, "Yes...but I'm not gonna be any help after."

"That's fine, just do it, and then I can get us out." Peter said, and Johnny nodded, drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes before bursting into flame. Peter looked away as Johnny glowed white-hot.

Otto turned, shielding his eyes, and shouted, "No!" but in that moment, the pressure grew until Johnny's entire cage exploded, the force cracking the glass on Peter's. Otto had protected himself with his arms, and Peter set his sights on the mad scientist. He rammed the glass, making it shatter, and tried to web-shoot Doc Ock, but then the fire must've hit something _very_ flammable, because Peter was blown back by an explosion. He hit the ground hard, burnt and stunned, and when he looked up again, Otto was gone. Peter cursed and made his first priority finding Johnny. He made his way through the wreckage, searching for the familiar blue outfit. His ear was finally caught by a weak cough in the corner of the room. Johnny. Peter scrambled over, hoisting Johnny onto his shoulder. He staggered, unused to the weight, especially in his current state. He coughed against the dust, pulling the tattered remains of his suit over his face as flames licked at his feet. He staggered forward, toward the exit, towards freedom, but in that instant a robotic tentacle shot out of the darkness and grabbed his ankle, cherry-red metal searing a mark into his leg. Peter muffled a scream, kicking at the grip, but then the arm went limp and Peter lurched as fast as he could to get out. He made it through the door into an - office? He turned and saw the windows. Okay, so they were in a skyscraper. This was very bad. The fire crept to the doorframe and Peter searched for a way out. Elevator was way too dangerous. Stairs were a no-no in his present condition. The room blurred as smoke filled Peter's vision and he coughed harder, throat raspy. Only one way out if he wanted a chance. He sprinted as fast as he could for the windows, smashing through them and flying into the night. He webbed himself to a building, preparing to swing, but he hadn't accounted for Johnny's dead weight, and he fell too hard, too fast, crashing right through the opposite window a few floors down. He barely had time to try to shield himself from most of the glass shards as he tumbled into another office. He heard voices and footsteps, but he could feel himself still falling - and then nothing.

Peter's eyes flickered open and he tried to take a breath, but it felt like he'd swallowed sandpaper and he coughed, entire body shaking.

"Whoa there, kid, calm down." a familiar voice said, and Peter squinted up at the familiar bearded face. It was...

"Mr. Richards?" he rasped, suppressing another cough.

"The one and only." Reed said, smiling over at him from where he was standing at a monitor, doing whatever science-y work he usually did.

"Is - is Johnny okay?" Peter asked as Reed's hand snaked over to hand him a glass of water. Peter didn't even find it weird or disturbing anymore, with the amount of time he'd spent here.

"Hm? Johnny? Oh, Johnny's fine. He's just a little tired. Nothing you wouldn't expect from going supernova." Reed replied, and even as he spoke, Johnny walked in in a hoodie and sweatpants. 

"Reed, what happened? How did I get - " Johnny started to ask, yawning, but then he noticed Peter and shut up.

"Is...that my hoodie?" Peter croaked, throat still raw.

Johnny blushed and mumbled, "...maybe?"

"Come on, Johnny, I've been looking for that for two months!" Peter exclaimed, trying to sit up so he could yell at Johnny better, but his head spun until he laid back down.

"Yeah, well, it's not my fault if you left it here and somehow it ended up in my laundry and Sue thought it was mine so she gave it to me and then I wore it and it was nice and I kept it." Johnny defended.

Peter sighed and shook his head. "Can I at least have it back?"

Johnny paused, then wheeled around and said, "You know what, I think I left the oven on."

"You don't ever cook, Johnny!" Reed called after him, but Johnny was long gone.


	12. Whumptober Day 15: Into the Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: possession, magical healing, science gone wrong
> 
> Ship: MattDanny (or whatever it's called)
> 
> I am possibly the least qualified person to write this. I do know a little about Daredevil; I've read Born Again (like every comic nerd should) and I own a few of his comics. Iron Fist though? I've only read the New Avengers with him in it and there was one Deadpool comic with the Heroes for Hire. I also had a bad case of writer's block and basically just recounted the events of New Avengers vol. 2 by Brian Michael Bendis, with a large amount of artistic license because I forgot most of the story. If you plan to read that book, then just skip this.
> 
> WARNING: Spoilers for The New Avengers Vol. 2 (2010), Daredevil: Born Again, Deadpool by Posehn and Duggan: the Complete Collection vol. 1/Deadpool: Flashbacks, and Daredevil: Know Fear. And also an event I didn't read but was mentioned in The Avengers by Jason Aaron: The Final Host or something, one of the first four.

One of Matt and Danny's favorite things to do when they weren't working/saving the world/lawyering was trading stories from adventures the other hadn't been on. It became a running contest to see who had the funniest/worst/scariest story, and the competition was fierce.

If they were just sitting around, Matt might randomly say, "Once my ex traded my secret identity for crack and I became a insane hobo before getting shot and being rescued by my long-lost mother." And Danny would look over at him, so of course Matt would have to explain.

Or Danny would tell Matt, "I was just thinking about the time that Deadpool tried to join the Heroes for Hire and while trying to help one of our cases, dressed up as 'Deadpimp'. Man, Luke was _pissed_." And Matt would look over at him, so of course Danny would have to explain. So far Matt was winning for the weirdest story with, "There was that one time that I stole Frank's shirt and then later got grounded by Spider-Man."

Then one day, as they were sitting in a small superhero friendly coffee shop, consuming the usual post-battle calories, Danny snapped his fingers and said, "I've got it."

Matt raised his eyebrows as a question and Danny smirked. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got transported to a magic demon realm by Agamotto's minions, who tried to kill me but couldn't? And I almost killed Doctor Strange. And I got a new costume." 

Matt's eyes widened slightly and he said, "No, you haven't." Danny smiled triumphantly and sat back, dramatically pausing before starting his story.

So, Luke didn't want to get dragged into all the team stuff, with the government again, but Steve Rogers eventually got him to make a team, after, get this: Tony Stark says, "Give me a dollar", and Luke hands him a dollar (it was actually _my_ dollar, but whatever...) and Tony says, "Congratulations, you're now the owner of Avengers Mansion. _And_ Luke got to choose whomever he wanted for the team. So eit was me, Spider-Man, Jessica, Logan, Bobbi, Ben, Clint, and this girl called Victoria that Steve sent over to give us a "fresh perspective" or whatever. And you joined sometime, as you know, but anyway, a little bit later, there's this big spirit guy who's trying to get the Eye of Agamotto back from Doctor Voodoo, the Sorcerer Supreme at the time, and it possess him and Daimon Hellstrom, so they go to Doctor Strange to try and get it. We get entangled in the whole thing. The spirits possessed Luke and he grew into a giant, which was cool but also creepy. And then I have the Eye, but I get sucked into this alternate dimension or something, where everything's white. And I hear these voices, which persuade me that Doctor Strange has been unlawfully protecting the Eye, and I storm back (with my cool new costume that I need to find again) and almost kick the crap out of Stephen before he tells me what's really going on. And then we discover it's actually _Agamotto_ trying to get his Eye back, and then he gets it, and we fight demons and Logan fights as all of our spirits with Agamotto before being saved by Doctor Voodoo's dead brother.

Danny took a sip of his coffee, watching Matt trying to process what he just said, and being the _slightest_ bit smug.

"Well...," Matt grumbled after a moment, "...once I was basically a god." And Danny choked on his coffee.


	13. Whumptober Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: forced to beg, hallucinations, shoot the hostage
> 
> Ship: Wintercastle
> 
> There is no structure whatsoever to this story. It's something random that has no plot, no beginning, and only an end. The story was originally meant to be Thundershield, but then I discovered Wintercastle, so of course I had a change of plans.

can't

can't

can't see

what is

going on?

Frank shook his head, the world spinning and warping. There was something in front of him - looked like a frog - no wait, it was a person - Frank closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

think

Castle

you need to 

think

Something cold at his temple. Cold - what - a gun? Yes, yes, a gun, that's right.

where am

I?

think

Castle

come on

Someone was talking. Words reached Frank through his haze, fragments of a conversation, and Frank could hear the stressed tone. That voice. Frank knew that voice.

who?

red star

Barnes

Bucky Barnes, right. The Winter Soldier. But why was he there? Everything was so dark, and Frank realized his eyes were still closed. He laughed slightly hysterically at the situation. He looked up, seeing the twisting figures of what had to be people, but their shape kept changing in front of Frank's eyes. Somebody raised their voice, and Frank winced.

don't yell

it's okay

it's okay

"It's okay." he muttered, but the others didn't hear him. He felt the gun press more insistently at his forehead and Frank tried to shy away, but there was a pair of strong arms holding him in place.

stand up

stand up Castle

But Frank couldn't move. He could feel each pulse in his chest and listened carefully to it, marveling at the sound, trying to tune out the others around him. 

it's okay

it's going to be okay

"No!" some shouted

no?

no wha-


	14. Whumptober Day 17: I Did Not See That Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (aka My Fics Know What You Did in the Dark)
> 
> Suggested key words: blackmail, dirty secret, wrongfully accused. Except I'm making it rightfully accused because: tea.
> 
> Ship: Captain Hawk
> 
> In which Clint and Steve make consistently stupid decisions, just like real life. Totally. Also featuring: the maximum amount of angst I can bring myself to fit into a story. And: obscure British comedy TV shows that if you know, you deserve a hundred billion points.

"See you later, Shar." Steve said to Sharon, kissing her on the cheek before stepping out of the door.

"Don't be late!" Sharon called back and Steve smiled in acknowledgement before closing the door behind himself. He looked around as he walked down the stairs, still not accustomed to living in an apartment as Captain America. And currently, Captain America was on his way to an important Avengers training meeting. He made it to Avengers tower a couple minutes early and stepped into the living area that Bruce, Tony, and occasionally Thor occupied. Those three all had rooms down the hall, but Clint, Steve, and Natasha chose to stay in separate living quarters. As if by magic, Clint appeared in the doorway at that very moment and his gaze connected with Steve, giving him an ever-so-subtle wink. Steve blushed, glad that none of the others were in the room, and Clint smirked, turning away as Tony walked in, followed by the other two, Natasha entering the door a second later.

Seeing that they were all there, Tony clapped his hands together and announced, "Alright, who's ready to beat the crap out of each other?" Everyone nodded.

Later, as the team was having a healthy debate about whether Star Wars or Star Trek was better, Steve and Clint's phones buzzed at nearly the same moment. The others laughed at the coincidence, and Steve and Clint joined in until they saw the reason that their phones had buzzed. 

Nat saw their faces fall and asked, "What's going on?" 

Steve and Clint glanced up at each other before Steve told the others, "It's about a mission we went on a little while back." Which was the perfect excuse, considering what "mission" actually meant to Steve and Clint. 

"Can I talk to you?" Clint asked casually, getting up, and Steve replied, "Sure," following him into the hall.

As soon as the door closed, Clint hissed quietly, "Do you know who did this?" Steve shook his head, biting his lip nervously.

"Clint - what are we going to do?" he asked, watching Clint hesitate.

There was a long pause, then Clint said, "I - I don't know. Maybe we - should think it over? The message said we have 24 hours."

Steve ran a hand through his hair and replied, "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So...we take some time, think about it by ourselves?"

Clint blew out a breath, looking away, and said, "I think that would be best. Just - let me know what you choose, and we can talk it over if we need to."

Steve nodded, then they stood still for another minute, each avoiding the other's gaze, before Clint coughed awkwardly and told Steve, "I...should go."

"Okay, we can talk...later." Steve replied, turning to go back to the other Avengers. He turned as he reached the door and their eyes connected. _Don't give up,_ Clint mouthed.

Steve sat alone in the corner of the room, the others having already gone back to their rooms. He reached for his phone again, giving into the temptation and opening the text again. He gazed at it as if it would disappear if he just glared hard enough. How had he not even noticed the picture taker. He clicked on the picture, hoping there was some way it could be someone else, but no. Clearly outlined in the dim light of the room were Steve' features, his head turned slightly towards the picture taker, and Clint's profile. Steve cursed himself for not being more wary. He'd _looked_ _up_ , for Thor's sake, and yet he hadn't seen anyone or anything. Steve clicked back to the message of the text and read it again: "Hang up the shield." The unspoken threat was clear. It was either Captain America or his relationship with...everyone. The world. If this got out, well, he was screwed. He would have to explain himself to Tony, Nat, Sharon - oh God, what would he tell Sharon? Either way, she would be mad, but if she knew that he and Clint had been together...well, it wouldn't be pretty. But he couldn't just _stop_ being Captain America. It was his life, it wasn't just his job. But what about the others...

Steve texted Clint a long time later, mind made up.

Steve stared at his phone, teeth gritted. He knew Clint. Very well. And he knew if Clint had made up his mind, he could be as stubborn as a donkey. Also... _maybe_...there was a grain of truth in his words. Steve was going to have to tell Sharon at some point, and if the blackmailer got there first, it could be even worse. Maybe it was time to own up.

Steve headed home that night feeling sick and nervous. He hadn't actually ever imagined this moment. He'd just naively assumed that he could continue with both Sharon and Clint. He loved Sharon, but not as _intensely_ as he did Clint. Steve let himself into his and Sharon's apartment, smiling tensely as she looked up from where she was working at the kitchen table and said, "Hey, Steve." But then she picked up on his stressed vibes and concern flashed across her face.

"What's wrong?" Sharon asked, turning towards him. Steve hung up his coat, unable to fully meet her eyes.

"Sharon, I need to tell you something." he said quietly, glancing up to see her reaction.

She looked confused and worried, but said, "Sure." Steve took a seat at the table, then took a deep breath and stared down at his hands, not wanting to watch Sharon's face as he broke the news.

"I... you know Clint?" he started.

"Yeah, Clint Barton, Hawkeye, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent - oh no - did something happen to him?"

"No, no," Steve reassured her, then continued, "it's -" his heart was pounding "- I - I've been seeing him."

Sharon face was still confused when Steve hazarded another look. 

"Of course, you'd see him, Steve, you work together." Sharon said, then her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. She said slowly, "You..."

"I'm sorry." Steve mumbled, ruffling his hair with one hand.

"How - how long?" Sharon asked, shock turning to anger.

"...about two months after we started dating." Steve admitted.

Sharon opened her mouth to reply, closed it again, and then shook her head. "Steve...what the _fuck_?!"

"I'm sorry, Shar, I-" Steve repeated, but Sharon's eyes blazed and she growled, "Don't call me that." Steve hesitated, unsure of what to do, but then Sharon pointed to the door.

"Get out."

"Sharon-"

"Steve-"

Steve paused, seeing Sharon's furious face, then got up, surrendering. "I'll get my stuff." he said quietly.

Should he be doing this? Probably not. But Clint deserved it, and Steve needed Clint's opinion on what to do, as much as he hated it. He knocked on the door and waited a moment, hearing footsteps. The door opened and Clint stood in the doorway, startled. 

"Hey, Steve." he greeted.

Steve cut to the chase and said, "I told Sharon," wanting to hate Clint but also somehow unable to.

One of Clint's eyebrows raised and he said, "And...?"

"What does it look like?" Steve muttered, nodding down at the box he was holding. 

Clint winced and replied, "Oh man, I'm sorry." He paused, coughed awkwardly, then offered, "Do...you need a place to stay?"

Steve glared at him and Clint hurriedly corrected, "Not like that. I was just thinking it would be awkward to find an apartment or a room or whatever 'cause, I mean, it's pretty late, but I mean it's up to you. I just meant a completely platonic bro sleepover." 

Steve looked at him for a minute, warring with himself, then gave in and muttered, "Fine."

Clint stepped aside to let Steve in and Steve cautiously entered, warning Clint, "Completely platonic bro sleepover."

"Completely platonic bro sleepover." Clint agreed.

"Okay, so...sometimes during a completely platonic bro sleepover, you watch movies or do something, and I have no idea how to entertain a super-soldier, soooo..." Clint said, much later.

Steve replied, "Um, sure," because it was better than what they'd been doing for the past couple of hours: trying to keep busy while also avoiding the other, which was proving to be nigh impossible.

Clint shuffled through his very small collection of DVDs and told Steve, "Okay, so I have _Titanic_ _,_ two season of _A Bit of Fry and Laurie_ , one of _Fawlty Towers_ , and _Hunger Games_."

Steve chuckled and said, "Of course you have _Hunger Games_. And what exactly is _A Bit of Fry and Laurie_? Or _Fawlty Towers_ , for that matter?"

Clint gasped, mock-offended, and huffed, "Yes, I have _Hunger Games_. And the other two are _good British comedies_. Because I can't get _That Mitchell and Webb Look_ on DVD and I'm too broke for a streaming service. These two are genuinely funny, inventive, comedic British shows."

"Uh-huh." Steve smirked skeptically.

Clint glared over at him and grumbled, "We are watching Fry and Laurie now and no one in the galaxy can stop it," as he shoved the other three DVDs under theTV. He continued talking as he put the disk into the TV, threatening, "And you _will_ like it. You _will_ see the superiority of British comedians."

"You realize you're talking to Captain _America_ , right?" Steve laughed, but his smile flickered as he remembered their situations.

"Hey!" Clint said, pointing at him, "No bad vibes at the completely platonic bro sleepover!" Steve took a deep breath and pushed all the worries to the back of his mind. He could deal with actual life tomorrow. The completely platonic bro sleepover was the most important thing right now.

Even later, Steve admitted, "Okay, Clint, your...comedy really isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"'Isn't that bad'?! It's fucking brilliant. Plebian." Clint said indignantly. He looked up to glare and Steve realized how close they were sitting. He coughed awkwardly, moving away slightly, and looked back at the screen.

"Wait 'til I find a way to show you _That Mitchell and Webb Look_. It will blow. Your. Mind. I firmly stand beside the fact that they are the best thing since sliced bread." Clint told Steve after a minute, when the silence was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Really. What's so great about them?" Steve asked, turning so he could give Clint a better skeptical look. Clint raised his head to look the taller man in the face and Steve realized that they were still so close that he could see the faint red blush that crept across Clint's cheeks.

"Everything. They're just plain the best, and they make me crack up." Clint defended, and Steve could feel him leaning in ever so slightly, but he didn't move away either.

"Well, I'm guessing you haven't watched Key and Peele then." Steve replied, feeling his own face heat up and trying to maintain normal conversation as he watched Clint's face get a little closer.

"Huh. Maybe not." Clint mumbled, and before either of them knew it, their lips were touching lightly, not enough to count as a kiss, but just enough to put the idea of a kiss in their minds.

After a second, they quickly separated, and Clint said hurriedly, "That was a completely platonic bro kiss." Steve looked at him, emotions warring in his heart.

Clint took his silence as a rebuke and he ran a hand through his hair embarrassedly, mumbling, "Sorry. I didn't mean to-" but Steve cut him off by kissing him back, harder this time. Clint froze for a moment in surprise, then returned the kiss as heatedly as Steve gave it. 

"This is a really stupid idea." Steve whispered when they finally came up for air.

"I'm the master of stupid ideas." Clint replied.

Steve chuckled in agreement, and they both hesitated, teetering on the brink of a bad decision, then Clint took the plunge and whispered, "Kiss me again," and Steve willingly complied.

Much later, Steve paused and said, "This is a completely platonic bro thing, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Clint gasped, "definitely a completely platonic bro thing."

"Just want to make sure this isn't confusing in any way." Steve replied.

"Believe me, there is nothing confusing about this." Clint said, regaining his breath and grinning up at Steve.

"Good." Steve murmured, leaning down to kiss him again.

The next day, Steve woke up on the floor, covered only by the smallest blanket ever. He sat up, yawning and rubbing one hand over his face. Clint was still asleep on the couch and Steve got up carefully, not wanting to wake him up. He found his pants and put them on, then went to find his shirt. It was on the small table Clint had in his living room, next to Steve's phone. As Steve picked up his shirt and put it on, his phone lit up with a notification and Steve's heart jumped as he saw the time. 11 A.M. Exactly one hour after the blackmailer's time period had expired. He picked it up, wincing slightly as he saw them: five texts, two missed calls from Tony. Three texts from Bruce. Seven texts, three calls from Natasha.

"Oh fuck." Steve whispered.


	15. Whumptober Day 18: Panic At the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: panic attacks, phobias, paranoia
> 
> Ship: Logurt
> 
> Some random comfort fluff because I have no plotlines left in me at this point. Originally this fic had a plotline, but it was so bad that I ditched it for this. Because, let's be honest, who doesn't want comfort fluff?
> 
> Side note: this is the REAL Kurt, I'm not dealing with whatever that thing in X2 was. Tried and true since 1975.

The first thing Logan saw when the red haze cleared from his eyes was the blood, dying his claws a metallic red, dripping onto the soft ground. His vision focused further and he looked up, trying to figure out where he was. His gaze landed on the bodies and Logan's heart lurched. Who had he killed? He made his way over, picking his way through the blood and dismembered pieces. He knelt next to one of the few whole bodies, but then recoiled as he realized who it was. Kurt, eyes distant, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, three deep claw slashes in his chest. Logan looked around, now seeing his friends and even family in the bodies. And he'd killed all of them.

"No - I didn't - that-" Logan stuttered, looking down at his claws, drenched in blood, the blood of all of these people. Kurt's blood. Logan scrambled back, trying to get away from himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still smell the blood and the gore and everything he'd done. 

"Logan?" a voice said in the distance, but Logan didn't move. He didn't want to.

"Logan." the voice said again, louder, more insistently, and Logan curled into a ball. _Go away_ , he said silently. _Get away from me._

"Logan!" the voice practically yelled, and Logan woke with a start, jolting straight up in the bed. His chest heaved and his heart raced as he adjusted to the dark. He sensed another person beside him, and he turned his head to see Kurt, who was staring at him with concern, yellow eyes almost glowing in the darkness. Logan drew in a shaky breath, nightmare fresh in his mind, so close he could almost smell the blood still.

Kurt put one hand on Logan's knee and asked, "What's wrong?" Logan closed his eyes, seeing the bodies of everyone he loved, and he couldn't answer because he was choking, all the things inside rising up and suffocating him. His breathing quickened as he struggled to get some air into his lungs and just calm down, but it was so hard to calm down when all he could see were the dead and the blood and his claws, covered in blood, rising up and stifling him. His claws popped with the stress, but Logan forced them back into his hand, trying to gain a little bit of control.

He grabbed Kurt's hand, needing something to let him know where he was, and Kurt whispered, "It's going to be okay, Logan." Logan shook his head - it wasn't okay, it was never going to be okay again - and took a shuddering breath. In. Out. In. Out. Don't think about the monsters in the closet. Keep it inside. Logan took another slow breath, chest hitching with the effort of stopping his hyperventilation. His heart rate slowed and his chest relaxed, and then he realized he was almost crushing Kurt's hand with the force of his grip.

"I, um - sorry, I -" Logan muttered quietly, letting Kurt's hand go and looking away, blushing. He always hated it when people saw him lose control over the strict limitations he kept on his emotions, especially when it was people who he wanted to impress.

"Do you want to talk?" Kurt asked, tone sympathetic and so nonjudgmental, like he actually cared, that for some reason, Logan found himself recounting the dream, every gory detail etched in his mind. But as he spoke, the harsh emotions blurred and softened, until he could talk fairly confidently. As he told Kurt everything, he looked down at his hands, popping his claws and examining them, making sure just one last time that his dream hadn't been real. When his story was finally over, he avoided looking at Kurt's face, not wanting to see what was there, be it horror or pity or just plain sympathy, because it would remind Logan how good Kurt was and how much of a monster he was. But what he didn't expect was when he suddenly felt something enclosing his shoulders, almost like a - a hug. Logan tensed up, not used to hugs, but then Kurt just held him tighter and Logan wrapped his arms awkwardly around the other man, the motion getting more comfortable as the seconds passed.

"I'm sorry." Kurt whispered, and somehow that was the right thing to say, Logan didn't understand it, but it made everything hurt a little less, like this was the universe apologizing to him for how messed up it had made him.

He put his head on Kurt's shoulder, breathing in the other's scent, and mumbled, "Thanks, elf," voice rough. They didn't move for a moment that felt like forever, but in a good way, like Logan didn't want it to end. But eventually they both separated, and Logan subtly wiped his eyes, not used to the sheer amount of feelings he'd had tonight.

"I...thank you." Logan muttered, looking away again and pulling up the blankets. Kurt just smiled at him, every word he could have ever said in that simple gesture.

Logan grinned back, a little shakily, and then said, "...just to be clear, Wolverine still doesn't have emotions."

"Of course not," Kurt laughed quietly, lying back down, "your secret is safe with me."


	16. Whumptober Day 19:  Broken Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: grief, mourning loved ones, survivor's guilt
> 
> Ship: Lovebirds (Clint x Sam)
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Suicidal thoughts, considered suicide. Minimal of both, but they're still there. Just a heads-up.
> 
> By the way: Clint's family doesn't exist. I refuse to acknowledge they ever existed.
> 
> Also, apologies if my Avengers: Endgame quotes aren't perfect. I'm reading off of the script, as it's been a while since I watched the movie, and everyone knows scripts aren't *exactly* what the actor says. It's close enough.

There had been no graves, just the monoliths. Clint couldn't bear to go and see **SAMUEL T. WILSON** engraved on the rock, next to two other **SAMUEL T. WILSON** s. Clint hated never knowing which was the right Sam, which was _his_ Sam. And knowing that none of them got gravestones. There had been too many deaths, too few bodies, so they'd made this modern Stonehenge as a compromise, the big gray rocks towering over all the mourners, and Clint understood why, but he couldn't go and see everyone else, everyone who had lost partners and friends and parents and children. So he'd made his own grave for his Samuel T. Wilson, under the birch tree where they'd first kissed. It was reasonably far away from any civilization, and Clint had carved "Sam Wilson 1975 - 2023" into the bark of the tree with an arrow. He came as often as he could, bringing flowers and telling Sam about what he'd been up to recently. It was his little secret. And Sam's, of course.

_Six months_. He knew the other remaining Avengers were trying to track him down. He just didn't care. Clint didn't want any emotional burdens or obligations to others, not after...the snap. No, the Snap. Capitalized, like the Renaissance, except more evil. He knew the others had banded together to form a new team. He knew Sam wouldn't want him to take out his anger and grief and loss the way he was, beating back the little evil that had picked itself up with no mercy. But he couldn't stop himself, even if he had wanted to. He had to finish the job. He'd get around to contacting the others later...

_One year._ \- "It's been a year, Sam." Clint said quietly, looking at his hands as he sat next to Sam's tree. "I think about you every day. Remember... remember that one mission where we ended up fighting those aliens that looked exactly broccoli. It was so funny, and we laughed so hard, remember? I couldn't look at broccoli the same way afterwards." He smiled a bittersweet smile, looking over at the silent birch next to him.

"And - the Silly String incident? That was amazing. Remember Steve's reaction?" Clint chuckled. 

"The others seem to be doing well. I've seen Carol flying through the sky. I hear about Steve's...support group or something. I know Nat's trying to stalk me. Thor's disappeared somewhere. And me... I... well, I've changed, Sam. I can't tell if I'm better or worse, but I've definitely changed."

He paused, then said softly, "I'll get you back, Sam. I promise."

_One year, six months_ \- Clint swung his katana - a new weapon he had picked up recently - so fast it was only a blur in his hands as he ducked and darted among the assorted criminals and thugs. None put up much of a fight, at least not enough to seriously challenge Clint, and he made it to the far side of the room without too much trouble, leaving the lackeys behind him incapacitated - or worse.

"Let's see what you were all guarding so closely." Clint muttered to himself, surveying the lock on the safe. It was pretty secure, but Clint had spent a fair amount of time with Scott, and he was no rookie. It took him a few minutes, but eventually the lock clicked and the door swung open. Clint peered inside, expecting some rich guy's famous artwork, but what he actually saw made him choke slightly. One of Sam's Falcon suits. He stared at it for a minute, twenty different emotions swirling inside, then he spun around and grabbed the nearest conscious baddie.

"How did you get this? " Clint snarled in the man's face.

"I - I don't know, I'm - I'm not in charge of these things." the thug whimpered. 

"Then who is?" Clint asked, but then he realized his captive had passed out. Clint huffed with disdain and dropped the limp body. He glared around, but no other easy targets presented themselves, and he needed to get out before backup arrived. He looked back at the suit, trying to place where it had come from. A copy? No, this was the real deal, but not the one Sam had been wearing. A prototype, likely. He glanced towards the door, hearing footsteps on the stairs, and his heart sped up. He needed to get out now, he didn't have time to pore over the origins of this outfit. Clint hesitated, then grabbed the suit, pausing one last time before slipping it over his head and reaching for the goggles. Sam had taught him to fly once, and now Clint struggled to remember the lesson as he slid the glasses over his eyes. _Relax,_ an echo of Sam's voice said in his mind, _let the suit fly itself._ Clint blinked once and the goggle lenses turned green, displaying **"** **Identity confirmed: Clint Barton** ". Someone slammed on the door, but the pile of bodies, alive and less so, blocked the entrance. Clint wavered in his conviction, overwhelmed with memories, but then he shoved it all back and focused on the now. This was just like borrowing a hoodie. Sam wouldn't have minded. He concentrated, and the two red-and-white wings slid out on either side of him. The door cracked ominously and Clint worked faster, grabbing a random piece of debris and throwing it at the window before jumping out himself, into the cold night air. _Let the suit fly itself._ Clint let out a breath, trying to relax as he fell, until finally the wings snapped taut, causing him to rocket upwards. Clint scrambled to level out, and eventually got control over the reins, after much rising and falling. He finally was able to truly relax, and looked down on the tiny lights below him, in apartments, on cars, everywhere. Now he knew why Sam had never wanted to come down from the sky. It was so beautiful up here, so peaceful, that he could almost forget everything, everything that had happened, everything that was going to happen. He soared a little higher, feeling the cold air nip his face. He'd come down soon...

_Two years -_ "Two years already, Wilson. I'm so close to finding a way to get you back. Any day now... hey, remember that suit of yours I found? Well, it broke down a couple weeks ago. I guess that was why it was a prototype, huh? Nat almost caught me the other day, up in Quebec. I know she's trying to find me, but I'm not quite ready to let her find me. I got a little sloppy, though, and she almost found me. Got a little sloppy, I guess. Maybe if you had been there, I wouldn't have been.

I got a tattoo about a month ago, too. My first one. Hurt a little more than I expected, but I think it was worth it. Maybe I'll get more, who knows? What do you think?

...

I miss you, Sam."

_Two years, six months_ \- Clint unlocked his motel room door and opened it to see Natasha Romanov sitting in his room. He didn't even blink, just sighed heavily, resigning himself to the upcoming interaction. He'd known Nat would catch up to him at some point, he'd just been trying to avoid it for as long as possible.

"How you find me?'' he asked wearily, setting his quiver down on the bed next to Nat.

"Magic." Natasha deadpanned.

"Hilarious," Clint replied, leaning against the wall, "what do you want?"

"I just want you to hear me out." Nat said earnestly. Clint looked her over, searching for a suitable reason to refuse, then grudgingly nodded.

"As you know, the supply of Earth's defenders is pretty depleted. The team could really use a extra hand-"

"Nope." Clint interrupted, straightening up.

"Why not?" Natasha asked, eyes flashing slightly.

"Because I'm done with the whole 'team' thing. It didn't save Stephen, it didn't save T'Challa, and it definitely didn't save-" his breath caught and he looked away, hating himself, because he knew that Nat would seize that weakness and use it to her advantage.

But she only said, "Clint, just try it." Clint shook his head and pointed to the door, hoping she would just take the dismissal and leave him alone.

Surprisingly enough, she got up, but said one last time, "One more chance?" Clint just stayed silent, shaking his head again. Nat's eyes swept over him, then she exited the room and left Clint to his thoughts.

_Three years_ \- "Hey, Sam, it's me again. Sorry I haven't come by more recently. Although I'm not technically there...I...I had to move to Asia. Too many of the Avengers were after my blood, even though let's be honest: who needs an archer on their team? I don't know why they keep chasing me, and I don't really care. I'm - I'm just so sick of it all, Sam. What the hell am I even doing anymore? When you were here, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but Sam, that light's gone. I...I don't know if I'm still supposed to be here. I don't know what I'm doing, and all I can think about is how you could do what I'm doing so much better. I know it should have been _me_ that's scattered in a forest in Wakanda, Sam. I can't do this alone, but I don't want their help, and it's so hard to not just - stop. Just let everything stop. I just want to make it all stop sometimes, all it would take is...I-I can't think like this, what am I doing? I'm grateful I'm alive, and since I'm alive, I can help find you, find a way to get you back. I'll do it for you. For you. But, Sam...hurry back, okay?"

_Three years, six months_ \- Everything was just a blur at this point. Clint muddled his way through what he was doing, breaking up drug rings and stopping the "bad guys", but his heart wasn't really in it. He got more tattoos, he perfected his skills, he got new weapons and new skill sets, but he couldn't bring himself to actually care about what he was doing. He numbed himself so he couldn't feel the creeping horrible realization - Sam was gone.

_Four years_ \- Sam was gone.

_Four years, six months_ \- Clint had written a hundred notes, crumpled up each one and thrown it in the trash. There was no one to read them anyway. Just keep going, Clint.

_Five years_ \- He was just going to finish this one job, then he'd go back to America. He missed Sam, and he had to admit it - he needed help. He'd been trying to forget this man for five years, and nothing was doing the trick. He fought Akihiko, a famous Yazuka crime boss, with the minimum of banter, contrary to the Clint of five years ago. He answered questions, but there was no superfluous discussion, no back-and-forth like he used to do. Now? It was just the same routine every time. His opponent asked him why he was doing this, and he answered the same every time, telling them that the Vanished got Thanos, but the living got him. They offered him whatever he wanted, and he always told them that what he wanted, they couldn't give him. But this time, when he finally finished off his opponent, instead of being alone in a rain-soaked alley with a dead body at his feet, he heard a footstep and whirled around, raising his katana threateningly, but then he saw who it was as the person stepped into the streetlight. Natasha, standing in the street with a black umbrella, eyes scanning him with shock and surprise. Clint had never told her what he'd turned into. He hadn't seen her in so long, and his memories were faded and distant, all the ones since before he had become what he was, since he had become Ronin.

He paused, trying to decide what to start with, then said, "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you." Nat replied, tilting the umbrella back slightly to get a better look at him.

"I've got a job to do."

"Is that what you're calling this?" Natasha asked, moving a little closer. Clint unconsciously took a step in the other direction, not wanting to recognize that this was real.

"Killing these people isn't going to bring Sam back." Natasha continued, and Clint drew in a breath at hearing the name that had been in his thoughts for years.

Nat noticed his reaction and added, "We found something. A chance, maybe..." Clint felt a spark of hope, but he crushed it, scared that it would take root. He'd already spent so much time, trying to find a chance, that it would be ridiculous to get hopeful now. Sam was gone.

"Don't." he whispered.

"Don't what?" Nat questioned, eyes searching his as Clint looked away.

"Give me hope." Clint whispered, eyes finally turning back to Nat, looking for the lies in her blue eyes, but she at least appeared to believe what she was saying, and Clint wavered in his conviction that nothing could bring the Vanished back.

"I'm only sorry I couldn't give it sooner." Nat replied, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, Clint could tell she really believed it, and, well, if Natasha Romanoff, professional Russian skeptic, believed it, then maybe it was good enough for him too.

He hesitated, allowing the small seed of hope to grow ever so slightly, then he said, "Where?" 

"Come on." Natasha answered, turning and beckoning him away from the dark. Clint turned and looked back, at the dead man, at his past, at everything he had built here. But then he looked over at Nat, and thought about Sam, and decided to chase after his hope.


	17. Whumptober Day 20: Toto, I Have a Feeling We're Not in Kansas Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: lost, field medicine, medieval. Field medicine was never really introduced. I *meant* to, but I got sidetracked, and also I don't have enough time in the day to develop a complete story. Maybe I'll turn this into a full story sometime.
> 
> Ship: Stucky
> 
> If anyone can remember what the timeline-predicting device in Amazing Spider-Man: 2099 (Vol. 7) and Threats & Menaces (vol. 8) is, I'd really appreciate the info. Someone took the book from my library before I could check the name again.

"...and what are looking at here?" Steve asked. He, Bucky, and Tony all stood around one of Tony's latest gizmos. 

"This...," Tony said, pausing for dramatic effect, "...is a _time machine_." He looked at the other two, expecting some sort of shocked, or maybe even amazed, reaction, but was met with slightly baffled silence.

He sighed and grumbled, "Wow, Tony, that's so cool. How'd you do it? Thanks, Tony, we really appreciate the intellectual genius skills you donate for free to our team to better our missions."

"Okay, so, yes, you made a time machine, Tony, but you've already done that, and it _was_ cool. And if you're looking praise, I don't why you called _us_." Bucky remarked, gesturing to himself and Steve.

"Well," Tony replied, leaning on his new invention casually, "because you're going to be the ones to go back in time first."

The other two men looked at each other, then Steve asked, "And why is that, Tony?"

"Because you're both smart! And strong!" Tony exclaimed, then when they continued to stare him down, he muttered under his breath, "andsupersoldierscouldprobablysurvivelongerifsomethinggoeswrong."

"I'm not technically a super-soldier, more like a weird disease-immune HYDRA cocktail." Bucky pointed out.

"But wait, so we're just going back in time to test-drive this thing? Why not just...send an inanimate object or something?" Steve asked.

"Well, I mean, it's always better to test with the end goal in mind, _and_ I was thinking you could do a little reconnaissance while you're there. Look for the Infinity Stones. Just 'cause, you know, it'd explain a few things about the time period."

"Which time period?" Steve asked, narrowing his eyes as he sensed a drawback.

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and coughed out, "Themedievaltimes."

Bucky barked out a laugh and answered, "No."

Tony stuck out his tongue at Bucky and turned to Steve, saying, "Come on, Steve, it'll only be for two hours. And if you don't see anything, then fine. No problemo."

"You swear it's only two hours?" Steve asked, staring Tony straight in the eyes.

"Steve, you can't seriously be thinking about this. We can't just go back and mess with the timeline!" Bucky exclaimed, glaring at Tony.

Tony shrugged and replied, "Actually, I've used a new timeline exploring device, developed by one of Peter's college classmates. I just tweaked it a little bit, and now it can do almost anything. I used it to ensure that you wouldn't screw with the timeline too much, and it won't, so long as you follow the directions I give you exactly."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Steve wavered, glancing back to Bucky.

"No." Bucky grumbled, folding his arms.

"It could be a good way to learn more about the Infinity Stones..." Steve persuaded.

Bucky glared at the both of them, feeling his own convictions wavering, then sighed and gritted out, "Fine. But _only two hours_. Any more and I will live hundreds of years just to find you and kill you, Stark."

"Great! Let's get you two suited up!" Tony said, clapping his hands together.

"Okay, when you said 'suit up', I'll admit I wasn't expecting...this." Steve said, looking at his outfit.

"I really hate this." Bucky muttered, folding his arms over his chest and shifting uncomfortably. They were both dressed in knights' armor, shiny silver, with a big helmet with a plume on the top, and chainmail. They both had a sword, like either of them knew how to use it, and Bucky carried a crossbow as well.

"At least no one can see the red-and-white suits anymore." Tony encouraged, smiling widely, so widely it was almost suspicious. "Also, you have to look like you're from the time period. Otherwise it screws everything up. Trust me, I've researched it extensively. Also, just be glad you're not bards or something." Steve and Bucky shared an unimpressed look, then Bucky turned his irritated gaze back to his armor.

"What even is this? Is this...a skirt? A kilt?" Bucky asked, fiddling with the edge of the definitely-not-a-skirt.

"It's a _base_ , I'll have you know, Barnes. Very fashionable." Tony sniffed, mildly put out.

"Wow, how inventive. I wonder how they came up with that name." Bucky deadpanned.

Steve grumbled something under his breath, then said louder, "Alright, let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Tony smirked.

Bucky made his way to the time machine and stepped inside, Steve right behind him. The door hissed shut and Tony asked, "Ready?"

"I...I guess?" Steve laughed nervously.

"If anything goes wrong, just hang tight, and I'll hopefully find you sometime in the next hundred years. I'm still trying to find a way to accurately negotiate the time-space continuum, but you should be fine. Once you appear on the outskirts of town, find the pub that's called something like 'The Pegasus' or maybe "Flying Fish", something with wings. Don't get in any fights, don't go to any major villages, and whatever you do, do _not_ eat the turkey at the inn. Good luck." Tony instructed and the other two shared an uncertain look. Then Tony started counting down and they didn't have a choice anymore.

Bucky looked up at the ceiling, preparing himself, and his hand found Steve's as Tony counted down, "5...4...3...2...1..." Then everything...blurred. It was hard to describe rushing back through time. Think pedaling a bike backwards into walls made of styrofoam. Each time you think you're going to fall over, but you keep going until suddenly there's no more walls and the scenery materializes around you. When Bucky opened his eyes again, he and Steve were standing in the middle of a field, soggy marsh water soaking their boots. In the very far distance, Bucky could see a town.

"Were we supposed to land this far away?" Steve asked, tilting his head. Bucky lifted his feet to stop them from getting soaked and cursed Tony Stark. 

"Well, I guess...let's go?" Steve suggested, taking a tentative step in the direction of the town, footsteps splashing as he walked. Bucky grumbled one last unflattering Stark-related comment and followed after him.

They arrived at the village a little later, having slogged through miles of bog and swamp. When they finally reached the town, they searched for the place Tony had spoken of and finally found it under the moniker "The Cormorant". Which was definitely the same thing as, say, a pegasus or a flying fish. The two men stood outside the door for a moment, shivering slightly in the fall air, then Bucky looked over at Steve. Steve nodded in silent agreement, and Bucky pushed open the door, hitting them both with a blast of heat and smoke. They entered the pub warily, both blinking slightly as their eyes adjusted. The room, whose chatter had been heard even from outside, fell silent, and all faces turned to look at them. Battle-scarred, wizened, and calloused, the other knights, farmers, and craftsmen scrutinized the newcomers. Steve cursed under his breath, shying away from the attention, but Bucky stood his ground and stared around at the others, looking every one straight in the eye. The knights and farmers, one by one, turned back to their conversation, until the room buzzed with voices again. 

"How did you do that?" Steve hissed as they took seats at a small table in the back of the room. 

"You have your skills, I have mine." Bucky said modestly, then added, "And I watch a lot of movies." The two surveyed the rooms, looking around for someone who looked like they would be open to questioning. As luck would have it, in that moment, an older, burly knight made his way over to them and said, not unkindly, "You're not from around here."

Bucky smiled politely and Steve replied, "I'm afraid not."

There was an awkward pause, as both parties waited for the other to say something, then Steve offered, "Would you...like to sit down?"

"Ah, thank you greatly." the stranger chuckled, taking a seat, then he introduced himself as Sir Patrick Rose.

Steve and Bucky told him their names, then the knight asked "And where do you hail from?"

"I, um..." Bucky invented, "...we hail from America." 

"America?," the knight asked, eyebrows raising with surprise, "Never heard of it. Is it in Britannia?" 

"Yes, but it's...very small. Not many people have heard of it." Steve told him, laughing uncomfortably.

Sir Rose nodded, unknowingly accepting the lie, and asked, "And what business do you come to our humble town for?"

"We're just traveling up the road, looking for work. You know how it is." Bucky said, also trying to force amusement.

"And...," Steve whispered, leaning in confidentially, "we'd heard rumors of witchcraft around here, thought it was worth checking out. Have you heard anything? Said to be controlled by a mystical gem?"

Sir Rose looked around the tavern, then leaned in himself, and muttered, "You'd best not speak of that too much around here. But if you'd like, I can tell you what I know." Steve and Bucky shared an anticipatory look and nodded. (Yes, a random stranger approached them and handed them information, don't question my plot lines.)

Sir Rose paused, presumably gathering his thoughts, then started, "About twoscore weeks ago, one of the lord's top advisors let slip to his servants that his lordship's personal knights had found a strange object in the hills, a relic of God, perhaps. It was said to have granted almost infinite power to one knight who had picked it up, but not moments after the knight had first wielded this weapon, he was torn apart, by... _the devil himself_." Sir Rose looked at the other two, and Bucky and Steve made efforts to plaster surprised or amazed expressions onto their faces, then the older knight continued, "Two men have tried since then to take control of the stone, but both were consumed by this...force even faster than the first knight. The stone itself was said to have looked like a perfectly round amethyst, purple as anything ever seen. Then one day - the stone disappeared. Just up and disappeared from the place where it lay. Since then, witchkind have become more prevalent, _especially_ in that keep. Coincidence? I think not." he finished impressively, puffing his chest out. Steve and Bucky nodded, trying to be awed at his story.

"That sounds...interesting." Steve said after a moment, glancing at Bucky, who nodded too. 

"Someday, I tell you, boy, the stone will reappear, in its full might, and the world will tremble." Sir Rose chuckled darkly, shaking his head. Then something caught his attention and his gaze focused on Bucky.

"What has happened to your arm?" he asked, leaning forward to get a better look. Bucky tried to hide his arm behind his back, but the metal shone in the firelight.

"It's a new kind of armor." Steve tried to tell Sir Rose, but the knight's eyes narrowed as he looked between the other two.

"You yourselves are witchcraft." he breathed, eyebrows lowering.

"What? No, this is just my armor." Bucky laughed tensely, mind racing as he tried to figure a way out.

Sir Rose reached for his sword and said, "Then take it off."

Bucky hesitated, and that was all the notice Sir Rose needed. His sword, silver and shining, rose from his scabbard with a metallic ring and the pub went quiet at the sound.

"Witchcraft." Sir Rose growled, and Steve stood up as well, saying firmly, "There's no need to fight," but then he found his throat at the end of Sir Rose's blade. 

"And what, pray tell, is your mark of the devil?" Sir Rose asked, eyes flashing dangerously. Steve raised his hands in a sign of peace, but most of the tavern was already on their feet, weapons of every sort at the ready. 

"Get your hands off him." Bucky said, voice low and threatening. 

"Bucky, don't-" Steve managed, backing up on his tippy-toes as the blade came closer to him, but then the sword swung on Bucky. 

"He may not be witchkind, but we know you are." Sir Rose said to Bucky, pressing into Bucky's throat so hard a drop of blood ran down Bucky's neck. Bucky tried to answer, but the weight of the sword was choking him.

"Kill him!" a lone voice in the crowd shouted, and it grew into a chant, the entire mob chanting it. Sir Rose swung his sword back for a killing blow, and...the scenery dissolved. Before Bucky could even register what was happening, the world solidified again, into the inside of the time machine. Bucky collapsed to his knees, hands reaching for where the sword had been. He drew in a deep breath, free of the stifling pressure, and looked up to see Steve's worried face. 

"Did he hurt you?" Steve asked anxiously, eyes scanning Bucky for injuries.

"No, I- I'm fine." Bucky coughed, forcing a smile. Steve hugged him tight, so tight that Bucky was momentarily afraid he was going to choke again, but then the door of the time machine swung open and Tony asked, "...am I interrupting something?" Steve and Bucky both turned to glare at him and Tony winced away, muttering something about checking the calibrations on the time machine.


	18. Whumptober Day 21: I Don't Feel So Well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: chronic pain, hypothermia, infection
> 
> Ship: Symbrock
> 
> Another random scene without context.

_Eddie! Eddie, wake up!_

Eddie slowly opened his eyes to see nothing but white in front of his face. And cold. More cold than he thought he could ever feel. Every part of his body was freezing and numb. He was wet, too, from falling through the ice more times than he remember. Eddie shivered and got to his hands and knees, teeth chattering.

 _A little farther, Eddie! Almost there._ Venom swarmed anxiously inside of him, almost completely helpless. He had tried to keep Eddie warm, but due to his species' aversion to heat, he wasn't exactly a toaster. Once Venom had finally collapsed, retreating deep into Eddie's body, even his voice had disappeared from Eddie's mind for a while. But now it seemed he was back, and currently the only thing keeping them going. Warmth was no longer an option, in any form. They just had to keep going. There was a village somewhere along here, right? It was so hard to tell where he was going in the blizzard, he could be heading the opposite direction from where they were supposed to be, and he would never know. The wind howled in Eddie's ears and the ice stung his feet and hands and face as he lay on the ground, trying to regain any strength.

 _Get up, Eddie!_

Eddie stumbled to his feet again and lumbered forward, arms trying to shield himself from the snow in vain. He was so frozen he couldn't even tell if his fingers were still attached, and as he tried to breathe onto his hands to generate some heat, the moisture in his breath froze, drawing the cold back into his lungs. Venom mustered his efforts one last time and swarmed over his body, letting Eddie sink back into the deep black. He couldn't tell whether he was dead or alive anymore, and at this point he didn't care, so long as he would never be cold again. His mind wandered feverishly until Venom faded back and Eddie was left in the bleak wasteland again, all alone. He sat still in the snow for a moment, contemplating his life deliriously, until Venom hissed weakly in his ear again and pushed Eddie to his feet. Eddie stumbled forward a few steps, then he cracked open his eyes slightly as a rush of warmth shot through him. Funny - he'd thought he was cold, but suddenly it was as if a fire had been lit. Eddie smiled, frozen face cracking and bleeding. though he couldn't feel it anymore. Warmth.

 _This is bad, Eddie._ Venom fretted, but Eddie just laughed, rough voice disappearing into the never-ending white wall. He attempted to run forward a few steps, enjoying this new energy. It felt like a summer's day. Far too hot for a jacket. His frost-bitten fingers fumbled for the zipper, but Venom prevented him from actually taking the coat off.

_Eddie, what are you doing?_ _We'll die!_

"Stop it." Eddie mumbled, glaring at his own hands, but no response came. Eddie sweated under his parka, but moved forward slightly. His eyes focused on a light in the distance and a hope sparked in his chest. But it wavered and dipped, soon joined by others, of all colors and sizes. 

"Pretty." he whispered, voice harsh. His hands batted out to catch one, but they disappeared as soon as he came near them.

"I- where'd it..." Eddie muttered, looking around hazily.

 _Eddie?_ Venom asked, but his voice was blurring and fading. 

"V-Venommm...?" Eddie slurred, tripping on something and falling to the ground. His hands hit something hard. Stone. The lights still danced around his eyes, but this...this was tangible. If only Eddie had been able to understand what it meant. He crawled forward a few paces, fascinated by one light that moved closer, until a new sound entered his ears. A roar, like a...machine. The light grew even closer, and through his slowly dimming eyesight, Eddie watched uncomprehendingly. The light stopped and Eddie closed his eyes, feeling himself slipping forward. He fell down, not even realizing it, and the last thing he heard was a word spoken in a foreign language.


	19. Whumptober Day 22: Do These Tacos Taste Funny to You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: poisoned, drugged, withdrawal. Didn't include withdrawal in the work.
> 
> Ship: Ricstar
> 
> I have to say this: Read Shatterstar: Reality Star. It's in my top 5 favorite comic books and I love it with all my heart, partly because Ricstar is one of the few officially canon gay couples in the Marvel Universe. (Except for Wiccan and Hulkling.) (And Iceman and Daken, but that's in the far, dark future.) (And also Mystique and Irene, but I feel like no one really knows about them.) Also, I used Shatterstar's name from that comic, which was Ben Gaveedra.
> 
> The idea for this was originally a Logurt fanfiction I had crafted a long time ago, and I found it and thought it would be perfect for this prompt. I did update it a little bit, and it looks *much* better than it did before.

"Look, Ben, if you want to 'partake of Earth's culture in its full glory', I'm just saying that tacos are a great place to start." Julio offered, shrugging his shoulders and tucking his hands in his pockets as they roamed the crowded streets. "And," he added, "I know where all the best taco carts are."

"I know where all the best chimichanga places are!" Deadpool piped up, leaning on Shatterstar's shoulder and giving them a cheery thumbs-up. Ben pushed him away and shared an irritated look with Julio. Why they had let Wade tag along, neither of them knew exactly, but he had just appeared out of nowhere, babbling something about enriching the plotline, so they had (for some unknown reason) let him join them. Mostly because it was impossible to get rid of Deadpool once he made his mind up about something. He followed them through the city, talking non-stop, mainly about chimichangas, and suggesting ways to kill the people walking by. Ben and Julio were both just about ready to throw Wade into a dumpster, but they knew he'd find someway to get revenge, probably by throwing them both into a giant blender or something.

"So where're we going?" Deadpool asked now, dancing through the crowd.

"Well, it sounds like these tacos would be a good place to start." Ben suggested.

Julio flashed him a grin and said, "I'm glad you've come to your senses. Here, I know there's one this way." He grabbed Ben's hand so as not to lose him, and pulled him through the congregation of people towards an adjacent street. Ben looked at their hands, linked innocently, then back up at Julio. He opened his mouth to say something, but then a voice whispered in his ear, "I see how it is, lover boy." Shatterstar turned his head and growled at Wade, wishing for his sabers more than ever before.

"Please, stop bothering us." he hissed. 

"Very polite," Wade smirked, somehow grinning through his mask, "but I actually can't. See, the writer of this won't let me leave. Believe me, I have about twenty other things I'd like to do, but _noooo,_ God forbid I get a moment's rest. Also, I'm essential to the plot, so-"

"Just - be quiet, please." Ben sighed, focusing on following Julio. Deadpool made the motion of zipping his lips, but still stayed by their sides. The three reached the taco cart and Julio ordered tacos, giving in and ordering one for Deadpool too. Then Julio and Ben found a bench nearby, in a quieter section of the city, and Wade, finally making himself useful, brought the tacos over.

"Thank you." Ben smiled, accepting.

"No problemo, 'star. I was happy to do it." Wade chuckled, and before either of the other two could decipher whether there was a sinister undertone to his words, Wade had lifted his mask and crammed half the taco down his throat in one bite.

"Wow, you were right, these are great." he somehow managed around the beef and lettuce.

Julio stared at him for a moment in disgust, probably lamenting the horrible death of such a beautiful taco, then turned back to Ben and asked, "What do _you_ think?" Ben took a bite and gave Julio a thumbs-up, a new Earth custom he had learned from the others. Julio smiled happily and Ben grinned back, surprised that he was actually enjoying this Earth cuisine, and happy to have found good food and good company. Of course, there was the slight problem of Deadpool, but Ben was trying to ignore that. He took another bite, but then paused as he coughed, feeling a slight stabbing feeling in his stomach.

Julio noticed when he grimaced and asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yes, I - I believe I may have eaten the outer shell without completely chewing it." Ben tried to laugh, but the pain was growing, feeling like he had swallowed knives. 

"Pay close attention, this is where it gets fun." Deadpool whispers to the reader, winking.

"Who are you talking to?" Julio asked, irritated, but then his attention was diverted when Ben suddenly leaned to the side and threw up onto concrete.

"Oh - wow - uh, Ben, are...are you okay?" Julio asked hesitantly.

"This...this Earth food obviously did not agree with-" Ben started to say, but then he threw up again, face looking actually green. Julio jumped away slightly as Ben wiped his mouth, staring down quizzically at the taco.

"Oh man, um, we, we'd better get you home. Nathan should know what to do. Do - do you feel well enough to walk?" Julio asked, looking a little ill himself. Deadpool watched silently, a rare occurrence for him. Ben paused for a moment, forcing his gag reflex down, then stood up, everything in front of his eyes blurring. Julio took his arm, watching anxiously, and together they made their way back.

"Interesting." Wade mused, looking over Cable's shoulder at Shatterstar. 

Julio glared over at him, ten times more nervous than he would ever admit, and said, "I understand that you're Cable's boyfriend, so-"

"No, he's not." Cable gritted out, shooting an angry look at Deadpool.

"Potato, po-tah-to, Nate." Wade smirked, nudging Cable in the ribs.

Julio cleared his throat and continued, "-but could you please not make comments like 'interesting'?" Deadpool shrugged, looking amused, but went silent. Julio glanced over at Ben's body, chest tight. As soon as they had gotten him home, he had passed out, and Julio remembered the heat of Shatterstar's forehead when he'd tried to check for temperature. Even from here, he could see how tightly drawn together Ben's brows were.

Cable scrolled through his digital readout, having scanned Ben, and remarked, "These results are strange. It's not food poisoning, it's almost as if he was intentionally poisoned or drugged." 

"What? But who - _why_? We haven't even gone anywhere that he could have been drugged in a long time, unless someone poisoned his taco. But then, who would know which one was his?" Julio asked, frowning, but then Nathan drew in a breath and questioned, "Did Wade get the tacos?"

"No, I mean, I payed for them, although he...carried...them over..." Julio trailed off, and they both turned to look over at Deadpool, who was looking at them both from the sidelines. When they both stared at him, he raised his hands and shrugged, smiling slightly.

" _Dios mio_." Julio muttered under his breath.

"Yeah." Cable agreed, staring with distinctive dislike at Deadpool.

Wade tilted his head almost as if he was apologizing, and said, "Look, I didn't mean for this to happen. I got a new thing, and I wanted to try it on someone! I was actually to do these two idiots a favor!"

"What kind of 'new thing' did you get?" Cable asked, looming closer.

Wade held up his hands in surrender and said, "Mayyybe it was kinda an aphrodisiac. I just wanted to see if it worked, I didn't want to kill anyone or anything with it. At least, I think it was the aphrodisiac...but anyway, I have the cure in my super-secret base...and I guess I'll go get that now?" he trailed off, uncharacteristically sheepish as Cable glowered at him.

"You'd better. And, Julio, go with him so he doesn't accidentally murder Ben." Cable growled, shooting Wade a dirty look. Wade grinned guiltily and followed Julio to the teleporter.

"And don't try anything stupid, Wilson." Nathan called after them, already turning back to Shatterstar.

"Yes, sir!" Wade called back, saluting ironically before disappearing into the 'porter.

It took one hour and two fake-outs before Wade and Julio finally arrived back at the X-Force base with the cure. Meanwhile, Ben had been getting worse by the minute. As the three gazed at him, they could all see his clammy skin and how he mumbled restlessly in his 'sleep'. Cable quickly took the serum and grabbed a syringe. (Which, yes, they just have on a table nearby. It's the fricking X-Force, don't expect anything less.) He filled the syringe with the solution, tapped it against the table to get rid of any bubbles, then took a deep breath and injected it into Ben's bloodstream.

"I...don't know if it'll work," Cable admitted quietly as they all watched tensely, "his altered physiology might not react to the antidote, or even reject it. Which, if that happens, means we'll need to be ready to take him to someone with better medical supplies. Possibly Charles Xavier." Julio nervously swallowed, the noise audible in the deathly silent room. But as they watched, Ben's body relaxed and the tight lines of pain across his face smoothed and disappeared. Cable moved to his digital display to monitor Ben's vital signs, but nothing seemed wrong. After a moment, Ben's eyes fluttered open and his bleary gaze fixated on Julio, who ran forward and hugged him tight. Ben coughed slightly and Julio instantly let go, worried eyes scanning Ben for noticeable marks of the poison. There were no obvious scars, just the memory of what had happened.

"What was that?" Ben asked, smiling weakly around at everyone. Cable and Julio both pointed at Deadpool, who sighed audibly.

Ben nodded resigned and said, "I should have known." 

"Speaking of Deadpool..." Julio said, now reassured that Ben was okay. He turned and glared at Wade, who started to inch backwards to the door.

Ben grabbed Julio's arm and said, "Don't hurt him." Julio glanced down at him, face unreadable, but then he sighed, grumbling something under his breath, and turned around, letting Deadpool escape through the door. Julio looked at Cable, who raised an eyebrow, then disappeared through the doorway. Both Ben and Julio couldn't suppress a slight smile of revenge as they heard Deadpool yelp.


	20. Whumptober Day 23: What's a Whumpee Gotta Do to Get Some Sleep Around Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested key words: exhaustion, narcolepsy, sleep deprivation. Didn't end up using narcolepsy.
> 
> Ship: Winterdevil
> 
> Don't question my math for the superhero compound, okay? I know there's a *lot* of superheroes, but look - I drew up some schematics because, yes, I am the person who does that, and if you put bunk beds in, for some of the heroes, then it will probably work. Sort of.

It had been two months since the government had decreed that, for civilian safety reasons, all superheroes would be moved into one area, known as the Avengers Compound. There had been some resistance, but after landlords had started closing their doors to anyone who exhibited any sort of supernatural abilities, most heroes had come to their senses, realizing that though they were living together, there was no legal requirement to anything, no registration or caveats. It was just a way to keep civilians and innocent lives safe. Of course, there were rules; no unauthorized cameras or phones were even allowed near the living quarters, to preserve complete privacy, and secret identities were to be guarded with their lives. So far - it had worked. The only two traditional heroes who turned down the offer were Hank Pym and Charles Xavier - two people who the government grudgingly allowed to remain out of the assigned building. And contrary to many pessimists, the situation worked. It kept civilians safe from buildings being attacked where heroes with public identities lived, and it kept superheroes from losing their housing, as had happened to many heroes before, like the Fantastic Four, Daredevil, even Tony Stark himself. Somehow, the whole thing actually brought the superhero community a little closer, in a way that couldn't really be explained. Knowing those little things, that the public didn't, created a bond, knowing that Danny Rand ate a PB&J at exactly midnight every night, that Warren Worthington III cried every time he watched _The Fault in Our Stars,_ that Bruce Banner could never actually pronounce the word "declaration" correctly. And - added bonus, it made it easier to muster large groups of heroes. Sure, there had been a few attacks from supervillains, but the combined might of Starktech, Parker Industries, and Reed Richards' intellect had made it near impossible to get past the front gate if you weren't authorized. And yes, there were internal squabbles, especially among the younger heroes, about who was dating who or who did whatever, but for the most part, it was calm. Except for that time Thor and Logan got into a fistfight over the last can of beer. And that time Johnny and Crystal started a mini-war. And that time Bruce and Amadeus accidentally blew up the lab. Okay, fine, maybe it wasn't so calm. But for many superheroes? It was becoming home.

Matt had been one of the first dozen or so to move into the compound. He had always hated the uncertainty of whether criminals would believe the rumors of his secret identity, whether they would come attack wherever he stayed, be it in the better side of town or the most derelict part of the city. So he signed up, easy as that. And it definitely worked. He still got to go to work as a lawyer, the only catch being that he would have to be very careful about who saw him walking towards or even into the Avengers Compound. Often he would just find a dark alleyway and change into his costume before going back to the residence, just to be safe. No one would question Daredevil swinging into the front door, but if they saw Matt Murdock? Well, the conspirators who said they were one and the same would have a whole new fuel for their fires. But as long as he always watched his step, he should be safe.

And even in the hallways and rooms of the compound itself, he was a lot more guarded than he would normally be around people. He would've heard the hum of electronics, phones and cameras and the like, so he knew that there were no unauthorized devices in the building. But he still scanned his room every day, just to be 100% sure that no one would know who he really was. And for the first few weeks, he had even worn his Daredevil costume for most of the day, just wanting to make sure that there would be no mistakes, no leaks of information in the beta stage. And there wasn't. Eventually, he only wore the hood, until one day he just realized how stupid he must have looked, in jeans and a T-shirt, with a red mask with devil horns covering three-quarters of his face. So he'd just become Matt Murdock, lawyer and superhero in equal parts. No one even commented, though he got a few sly looks and a couple sneaky comments about the rumors being right. But he could live with that.

The amount of superheroes here was huge, so Matt wasn't really surprised that he hadn't met everyone, but when he met Bucky Barnes he wished he had met this man a whole lot sooner.

He had been drinking his customary cup of coffee after a late night patrolling the streets when an unfamiliar man with one metal arm and long hair had approached him with an awkward grin and said, "Good morning."

Matt had given him a formal smile and nodded in acknowledgement, then asked, "Can I do something for you?"

The strange man nodded and introduced, "I'm Bucky. Bucky Barnes."

"Matt Murdock." Matt replied, setting down his coffee cup as he realized that this was going to need more commitment.

"Yeah, so, I need a backup hand for a mission, and I had asked Frank - the Punisher - for some suggestions on who would be good, and he referred me to you. So...yeah. I can ask a couple other people if you're busy, but I figured I'd ask you first, since he spoke of you so highly."

"Did he now?" Matt asked, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

"Well, not exactly," Bucky admitted, smiling a little guiltily, "It was more like 'Try Matt. He can hold his own if he has to.' and then he walked away and now here I am."

Matt frowned for a moment in consideration, then questioned, "What kind of mission?"

Matt never took a partner mission without first sizing up who he'd be fighting or fleeing with, and Bucky passed pretty much everything in Matt's first scan. He seemed reasonably calm, but Matt's radar sense could feel the scars that marked his body, so he must have been in at least a few fights. Bucky handled himself well, reasonably confident in his manner and he didn't seem nervous as he talked to Matt, breathing and heartbeat regular. And? There was one last thing, which Matt never used to judge someone but always indulged as a matter of curiosity. In addition to his radar sense, Matt had what he liked to call his gaydar sense. Or, he would call it that if he ever actually told someone about it, but it seemed ridiculous. He never made decisions based on it, he just liked to get a sense of what kind of alignment the subject would have. And Bucky? Seemed confusing. Most of the time, Matt could place a person in blurry but somewhat confident lines, but he couldn't figure out this one. He had only been wrong twice - with Frank, and with Danny - which were both pretty important people to him, so maybe he just was hesitant to place another working partner in the wrong category, but Bucky seemed a lot more complicated then he looked on the outside. Or at least what Matt's radar sense said he looked like on the outside.

And thus it begun. Matt and Bucky successfully pulled off the mission, which was just some light reconnaissance, nothing big. So later, Matt asked Bucky on a light adventure, then Bucky returned the favor, and they started running into each other on patrols - which was weird, because Matt hadn't thought Bucky was big on the whole patrolling thing, but hey, people change. They'd join each other for more and more operations and assignments and what-have-you, until they were seeing a lot more of the other than they would have ever expected two months ago. And, a little while, they were just returning from a late-night to early-morning stakeout, both yawning and exhausted, when Matt casually mentioned that he knew a good coffee shop on the way back - definitely not a date, just two superbros hanging out and drinking coffee together. And then it became a _thing_ , drinking coffee and chatting. But really, it meant nothing. Matt would spend this much time with Foggy if he saw Foggy as much as he saw Bucky. Wouldn't he?

There was one thing that Matt sometimes worried would compromise Bucky as a fighting partner - his consistent lack of sleep. Bucky just - never slept. Matt could knock on his door or call him at two am or midnight and Bucky would always open the door on the first knock, pick up on the first ring. Which seemed mildly concerning, considering how much sleep affects how well Bucky would perform on a mission, but somehow Bucky never let him down, always pushing through his obvious exhaustion. Matt would try not to worry, because surely it meant nothing. Bucky was a grown man, he didn't need Matt to look after him. Still, Matt worried sometimes...

A couple weeks later, Matt decided to finally resolved himself to take action. That night, Bucky had called him with another job, despite it being a rather cold and windy night, Matt was happy to go along. But when he still a couple roofs away, he realized how disheveled Bucky was. Not in dress, of course, Matt's radar sense could let him see that everything looked how it normally did, but after spending so much time around Bucky, Matt could also sense that not everything was as it seemed, that Bucky seemed immensely tired, more even than usual. Usually his heart would be racing with adrenaline before a mission, his breathing would be a _little_ quickened, not enough for most people to pick up, just Matt. But today? His heart beat slower, his breathing was irregular as he dozed off and woke up again, and Matt could hear him yawning from ten feet away. When he touched down on the roof beside Bucky, the other man jumped, another signal that something was off. Usually Bucky was less on edge than this. 

Matt decided to leave it alone, after all, it wasn't really his business, and asked, "So what's the situation?"

"Apparently," Bucky said, "those guys have stolen some of Marc's - Moon Knight's - crescent shuriken or whatever he calls them. They're all made of admantium, so if they get into the wrong hands, there would be serious repercussions. This is the only stage of the transport process where it's possible for us to get them - or at least it's the easiest part. Those men are-" he yawned again "-sorry - heavily armed. I'm going to create a diversion so you can jump in and get the crates. The cargo shouldn't be too heavy, but if they are, I can dispatch the men and come help you. Comms silence is advisable."

He stifled another yawn, leaning against the edge of the roof, and Matt looked at him - or at least turned his eyes towards him - for a long moment, before finally asking quietly, "...are you okay?"

Bucky jolted up from where he had slumped over slightly, and replied, "Uh - yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"If you're going to compromise the mission-"

"No, it's okay."

Matt scrutinized him for another second, then sighed and let it drop - for now. 

Bucky focused on the targets, avoiding Matt's eyes, then whispered, "So, are we ready?"

Matt crouched down so no one would be able to see him if they looked up, then whispered, "Ready."

"And...here we go." Bucky muttered, raising his rifle just over the edge of the roof and firing twice, taking out that number of men. The other eight looked up immediately and shouted, lifting their own guns and returning fire. Matt hunkered lower to avoid any stray bullets as Bucky vaulted over the edge of the roof and skidded down the side of the building with his metal arm, crumbling brick under his fingers to slow his descent, and yes, Matt's lawyer brain said it was going to cost a whole ton of money to fix this apartment, but Matt's hero brain just said, _Shit, that's cool._ Back on the ground, Bucky drew the guards away, but five stayed to guard the payload. Bucky managed to fire one more shot back at the truck and one more dropped to the ground, leaving Matt with four to contend with. Daredevil raised his head slightly, just to make sure he had a good fix on the enemy, without the brick muffling his radar, then carefully raised himself up. The four remaining scanned the ground, but no one really looked up. Matt carefully aimed, all senses humming with concentration, then threw his billy club in such a way so that it bounced off one guards' head and hit another, knocking out the first and stunning the second. He leapt down the building, using the fire escape and the handholds Bucky had left, nimbly dodging fire. Before the men could even realize who they were dealing with, Matt was on them, kicking one in the face, punching another in the stomach, and delivering a swift punch to the stunned sentry to take him out of the fight for good. One of the others, recovering faster than Matt would have expected, tried to sneak up on Matt from behind, but Matt's radar sense had no behind to sneak up on. Daredevil lashed out, knocking the gun from the would-be assailant's hands, then rendering him unconscious. The remaining guard hesitated just a second too long, seeing his compatriots downed, and a split second later, he too slumped to the ground beside them. Matt's radar sense couldn't detect any more immediate threats, so he carefully raised the back of the truck and dragged the two crates into the open. Bucky had been right, they weren't overly heavy, but it still took Matt a few minutes to haul them back up to the rooftops. After he had secured them in a corner of the building, Daredevil cast out his senses for the Winter Solder, realizing he was a few alleyways away, moving slow. Bucky was being chased after by one enemy, and currently close-range fighting another. At this point, he could probably use Matt's help, if he hadn't disabled his share of the guards already. As Daredevil swung over, he realized that one of the goons had raised his gun and was preparing to shoot Bucky. And Bucky couldn't see it, attention caught by another who circled him. 

"Barnes!" Matt shouted, hoping to warn his partner in time, but the wind whipped away his words, spinning them into the darkness.

Every one of Matt's senses, tuned to the utmost clarity, heard the sharp _bang!_ and the rip of Bucky's costume as it grazed his side. Bucky turned, surprised, giving the one he'd been fighting the chance to throw a punch. Bucky, already slowed by the exhaustion and the pain, wasn't going to be able to defend himself in time. But fortunately - he didn't have to, because all at once Matt was there, red suit almost glowing in the dim light. He quickly dispatched the last two, faster than ever before, and turned to his wounded friend. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, face unreadable, but a lot more concerned than he'd thought he would be.

"Yeah, it's just a scratch." Bucky muttered, checking the spot where the bullet has grazed him. Sure enough, Matt realized it had only left a very small furrow, and he felt a wave of relief wash through him.

He picked up his billy club and slid it into the holster, concealing his feelings, then said, "I think _that_ would count as almost compromising the mission." 

Bucky's head turned towards Matt, but he didn't say anything for a long moment, finally grumbled, "Fine. I almost compromised the mission. _Once_."

"Not just once. Remember five days ago? You almost got jumped by that thug who arrived late. One week ago, you fell asleep at your rifle and I had to deal with all seven criminals by myself. One week, four days ago, you-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Didn't realize you kept a list of my failures."

"I don't, James. The only reason I notice them are because you don't usually make mistakes. But lately..."

"Look, I'm human, okay? I make mistakes. It's not like you're a goddamn angel either, Murdock, don't pull that card on me."

"I wasn't-" Matt started, a little taken back by the anger Bucky channeled at him, but then he fell silent, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

Bucky paused again, seeming like he was on the brink of saying something, then shook his head. "Let's get these boxes back to Marc." he muttered, turning away and trudging back in the direction of their stakeout point, leaving Matt to stare after him helplessly.

Both were silent on the way back, each carrying one crate and sharing the load of the third. Bucky lagged behind and Matt made an effort not to comment on it, seeing how Bucky's eyes flashed wearily but defiantly every time Matt stopped to let him catch up. The first snowflakes of winter began to fall and neither said anything, both fixating on their surroundings instead of each other, the silence almost stifling. They managed to get the cargo back to the compound in a fairly short amount of time, then split up, each one disappearing to their respective rooms, forcing farewells cheerier than they felt. As he pushed back the hood of his costume, Matt tried to forget the irritation in Bucky's voice. He knew it was Bucky's life and he didn't need Matt pointing out his faults, but there was something going on that Matt wanted to get to the bottom of. And at the very least, it was certainly affecting their working relationship, if nothing else. If this pattern continued...well, Matt might have to call off their adventures until Bucky could get everything together. Still - not his business to mother a 103-year-old assassin who'd seen more of life than Matt could ever hope to. He would just have to trust Bucky knew what he was doing.

After collapsing into bed and falling asleep for a very long time, Matt awoke to a quiet knock on his door. He grumbled unintelligibly and rolled off the bed, stumbling to the door as his mind slowed churned awake. He opened the door to "see" the familiar form of Tony Stark.

"Oh hey, did I wake you up?" Tony asked, taking in Matt's sleep-tousled hair and sweatpants.

Matt glare-squinted at him like an annoyed bear and asked, "Well, I'm awake now. What do you need? Chitauri? Space kraken? Kingpin?"

Tony chuckled slightly, shaking his head, and replied, "Nah, nothing like that. It was just that Peter wanted to do another movie night, and you know how he is once he gets an idea in his head."

Matt stared at Tony more blankly than he normally did, completely impassive, and Tony continued, "Okay...well, anyway, I thought I'd go around and see who wanted to join in. I mean, the last three weren't complete failures..."

Matt paused for a moment, then sighed, "Is it going to be _Back to the Future_ again?"

"No, no, we did eventually learn from the first three and we're watching something else." Tony reassured, laughing a little nervously, probably remembering the disaster that had been the third announcement that they were watching _Back to the Future_.

"Okay, so what are you showing?"

"It's this super obscure movie called, the Justice Society or - no, Justice League. It's about some weird superheroes or something, a man who's a bat and stuff. It got fairly low reviews, but we're hoping it'll be so bad it's good."

Matt hesitated again, but it wasn't like he had anything else going on. Honestly, all he'd originally planned was sleeping for a couple more hours, then eating or working out or something, so a movie might be a welcome reprieve from the monotony. Even though he could never actually see the screen, which was a pretty big drawback.

"...sure, I'll go." he gave in, leaning against the door.

Tony grinned and said, "Great, now I just have to go talk to every other superhero in the compound." He turned and walked away, calling "See you in two hours." Matt nodded, to no one in particular, and closed the door. Justice League, huh? Never heard of it, but how bad could it be?

About two hours later, Matt made his way into the living room, sensing far more people than he would have expected to attend the movie night after the disaster that had been last time. Still, there seemed to be a positive buzz in the room as the heroes mingled, chatting and taking seats around the room. Matt's radar vision swept across the room, unconsciously searching for the one person who...there. Right next to Bruce and Luke, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. As Matt turned in that direction, the metal arm that he knew so well sheepishly waved in his direction. Matt tilted his head, debating with himself whether he should act like he'd notice or not, but then realized he was being a little bit petty, and he made his way to Bucky.

"Hey," Bucky said over the noise of people talking and laughing around them.

Matt took a seat on the crowded ground and replied, "Hey."

There was a very awkward silence, both quickly looking at the other, then glancing away, until Bucky cleared his throat nervously and added, "Um, look, I just wanted to apologize for what, you know, I, um, said. I didn't really-"

"It's fine." Matt reassured, giving him a smile.

Bucky's entire body relaxed and he let out a relieved breath that was a little comical in its intensity. 

"So...have you ever heard of this movie?" Matt asked, staring up at where Peter Parker was sitting on the ceiling trying to attach a projector screen to the ceiling, Kamala Khan alternately stretching up to try to help him and returning to the ground to try to get the projector itself to work.

"The...Liberty League?"

"Justice League, I think."

"I mean...it looks fine. Honestly, I'm mostly just surprised that we don't have any superheroes like this in our world. I feel like it's strange that our heroes have nearly every power under the sun and yet we don't have a rich guy who dresses as a bat. Maybe they're copyrighted or something." They both chuckled slightly at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but then their attention was caught by Tony, who was calling loudly over the conversations, "Hey everyone - people - yeah, hi." The room went quiet and Tony continued, "Look, I think we're starting the whole movie thing in a few minutes, so if everyone could just remain quiet for a few more minutes, that'd be great, thanks."

The crowd hummed with anticipation but remained reasonably quiet as the shaky image of a DVD menu appeared on the projector screen, slightly off-center until someone adjusted it and the picture appeared full screen. An unseen hand pressed play and a hush finally fell over the room as the first theme music started playing. Matt sighed as he resigned himself to two hours of listening to people being punched without actually seeing it, but at least he had Bucky to tell him after the movie what had actually been happening, right?

About halfway through the movie, Matt, who was still trying to follow what was happening, leaned over to ask Bucky a question about one of the characters, and realized that the other man had fallen fast asleep, slumped against Matt's shoulder. Matt's eyebrows raised in surprise, but then he smiled slightly and turned back to the screen. His question could wait until the movie was over.

Even after the movie was over, and everyone was getting up to leave, Bucky still remained peacefully asleep, breathing light and steady. Matt hesitated, unsure what to do, but his shoulder was going numb and they both needed to get up anyway, so he gently jostled Bucky, trying to wake him. Bucky grumbled something unintelligible, draping one hand over his face, and Matt shook him a little harder. Finally, after a few more seconds of persuasion, Bucky cracked one eye open, glaring up at Matt.

"Everyone's leaving, come on." Matt whispered, offering Bucky his hand. The groggy super-solder took it and stumbled to his feet, leaning on Matt heavily. Matt bent slightly under the Bucky's full metal-enhanced weight, but managed to keep them both upright, which was an accomplishment. Bucky dozed lightly as they walked, or more accurately, Matt walked. He ignored the looks he got from the other people in the room - Daredevil carrying a sleepy Winter Soldier definitely turned a few heads. Now there was the just the awkward matter of taking Bucky to bed. Maybe Matt could just drop Bucky in front of his room? Although he would probably just sleep in the hall.

"Of course you choose now to completely pass out." Matt grumbled, hoisting Bucky's arm higher around his shoulders to keep the other man walking. Bucky just muttered another thing Matt couldn't hear.

"Well, here we are, anyway." Matt sighed, pushing them both the last few feet to Bucky's door. He tried to let Bucky go, but Bucky wouldn't let _him_ go.

"Come on, Bucky, this is your room."

"Don't-" Bucky mumbled blearily, waking up a little more.

He fell silent again and Matt asked after a minute, "...don't what?"

Then was another long pause, and Matt thought Bucky had fallen asleep again, until he muttered so quietly Matt almost couldn't hear him, "Don't leave me."

"Um...I mean, this is your room. I can't exactly..." 

"Just- don't."

Matt looked at the exhausted super-soldier for a few seconds, then exhaled heavily and muttered, "Here, look, I can...put you to bed. But then I'm going back to my own room." There was no response, and Matt scanned the hallway for other people before quietly opening Bucky's door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and letting them both in, then closing the door behind them. He led Bucky over to the bed, and Bucky lay down heavily, curling up where he lay. 

"Okay, I'm...going to go now." Matt whispered, but as he started to turn, he felt something grab the hem of his T-shirt. When he turned back, Bucky was looking at him with tired puppy-dog eyes.

"Look...," Bucky started, gaze slightly more coherent as he stared up at Matt, "I...," he took a deep breath and continued quickly, "I...can't sleep when I'm alone. It- there's nightmares from HYDRA and stuff, and so- you asked what's wrong, well, this is it. I, um... this is ridiculous, why am I telling you this?" he smushed his face into a pillow, heart racing.

"No, it's... not ridiculous."

Bucky looked up at Matt, a little bit scared, a little bit hopeful, and mostly just plain exhausted. "But, I mean... I can't sleep without other people there. It sounds stupid, it feels stupid... have you ever tried to explain that to someone? It either sounds like you're trying to get them to go to bed with you or like you're looking for attention. I just... never mind."

Matt sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "Bucky, it doesn't sound that bad. If you want... I can... I mean, it's up to you, but..."

Bucky tilted his head and considered Matt nervously, then said, "Are you being serious?"

Matt swallowed and nodded, certain his face was a deep shade of scarlet at this point, but fortunately the room was probably dark enough that Bucky couldn't see him. There was another awkward pause, then Bucky scooted back on the bed, making room for Matt and watching with a unreadable mix of emotions. Matt cursed his own awkwardnes - he was Daredevil! The man without fear! - and lay down in the spot that was offred, feeling Bucky's breath on his neck as Bucky snuggled a little closer, both of their hearts beating frantically for a few seconds until each one took a deep breath, feeling a lot more comfortable with each other than they probably should have. Even Matt, who wasn't used to having people near him when he slept, found it comforting to have Bucky's warmth against his back.

As they both started to doze off, Bucky murmured quietly, "Thanks." 

After a moment, Matt whispered back, "You're welcome." but there was no response and Matt realized Bucky was fully asleep again. As his own eyes flickered shut, and his mind disappeared into a dream, his mouth curled in a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think this is where I'm going to actually stop. It's been two months and I have other, important things to do, like binge-watching the 60s Batman or obsessively researching D&D. This has been great and I hope whoever's reading this had as much fun reading this as I did writing it!


End file.
